


Choose Your Own Path

by Rowan_McKaye



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Loneliness, M/M, Major Illness, Regret, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 45,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowan_McKaye/pseuds/Rowan_McKaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thomas develops a life-threatening infection brought on by his attempt to change his sexuality, Jimmy returns to Downton to care for him. Both men are then compelled to face their darkest fears and examine their own complicated relationship. </p><p>Begins after Series 5, episode 6, with flashbacks to earlier series and progression through Series 5. Note: Mature rating earned in chapter 20 and subsequent chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**May 1924.**

Thomas was dreaming. His body was heavy, as if weighted, but the air was light with an unmistakable combination of cologne, smoke and youth. It evoked a visceral warmth in Thomas’ core, a warmth pricked with longing. The heady combination only ever meant one thing, or rather, one person. _Yes,_ Thomas mused in the fog, _I am dreaming._ _Let me stay in this dream._

But then the warmth deep in his body gave way to pain. Horrible, searing, unrelenting pain. It seeped through him like a slow, foul oncoming tide, omnipresent and all-powerful, destroying everything in it’s path. Pain when he breathed, pain when he didn’t breathe, pain in his bones, in his lungs, in his back, behind his eyes, in his fingers and toes, everywhere. But through it, the beautifully alluring scent reached out with fragrant, musky tendrils, offering him the promise of bliss. _Maybe I’m dying_ , he thought with detachment. _Maybe heaven smells like him._

Softly a voice drifted in, muted and indiscernible as if heard under water. Was it his voice? Was he calling his name? Thomas tried to move, but his leaden, mutinous body wouldn’t obey. His eyelids wouldn’t open. His voice had left him. He couldn’t tell where his limbs were, except for his right hand, which now felt strangely painless and warm.

 

~

 

“I’m afraid it’s septicemia,” Dr. Clarkson sat forward, leaning his elbows on the desk and regarding the two women before him. “Blood poisoning. From the infection in the gluteus muscle caused by the injections of non-sterile saline. I had hoped the incision and drainage I’d performed yesterday would have been enough, but frequently these infections are quite difficult to treat.” 

“Is there anything to be done, Doctor?” Mrs. Hughes asked.

“Once again I’ve performed an incision and drainage, under anesthesia with ether, of course. I have evacuated the wound as much as I can, but it was quite extensive, more so than yesterday. And now, the infection has seeded the blood stream. I’m afraid he is much more gravely ill now than he was when Miss Baxter first brought him here.”

“God in heaven,” Miss Baxter breathed quietly. “I knew I should have made him talk to me sooner.”

“Now, don’t go blaming yourself, Miss Baxter.” Mrs. Hughes gently admonished the worried woman next to her. “Let’s not forget that when Mr. Barrow finally asked for help, you gave it. You’ve been a good friend to him.”

“There is one additional treatment that may be of benefit.” Dr. Clarkson offered. “We might improve Mr. Barrow’s chances if we irrigate the wound several times a day.“

 “Irrigate?” Mrs. Hughes asked.

“Rinse the wound with copious amounts of clean water. We first used this technique during the war. It seemed to help by removing…” seeing their expressions he paused, then continued on in less detail. “It washes out the area, which helps the viable tissue to recover. But I’m afraid it’s very labor intensive, and Downton Hospital has suffered the same severe shortages in nurses and orderlies that have been plaguing hospitals all across England. Our nurses can manage once a day, but there is some evidence in the most recent medical literature that more frequent irrigations are associated with better outcomes. Does Mr. Barrow have any family that could come to assist in his care?”

“No.” Miss Baxter said definitively. “Not that would come, anyway. But I would help on my half-days, and any other time Her Ladyship could spare me.”

Dr. Clarkson’s brow furrowed. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be enough. The latest papers suggest that the irrigation really must be performed multiple times a day to be effective. In some extensive cases during the war, for high ranking officers usually, a nurse’s aide was charged with almost constant irrigation.”

Dr. Clarkson paused. “It’s a pity. Corporal Barrow served well as a medic. Now he needs one.” He looked appealingly at the ladies. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone? A family member? A friend?”

Miss Baxter and Mrs. Hughes looked at each other, their faces mirroring each others’ thoughts. Miss Baxter raised her eyebrows questioningly at Mrs. Hughes, who nodded in agreement. Then she turned back to Dr. Clarkson.

“There may be one.”

 

~

 

Jimmy stepped out of the third class train car onto the platform at Downton station and looked around. It seemed no different than when he’d left, except that spring was in full flower. He looked down at the telegram in his hand and reread the message, unnecessarily. He’d read it so many times since it’s receipt the day before that he had it memorized.

 

BARROW GRAVELY ILL. STOP. DOWNTON VILLAGE HOSPITAL. STOP. IF ABLE COME AT ONCE. STOP.

 

Quickly glancing around again, Jimmy saw no familiar faces. He turned, picked up his small bag and started walking toward the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

**August 1920.**

Jimmy was nervous. Thrilled as he was to have gotten the job at Downton, his anxiety was not quelled by his happiness. Even though he’d been a footman for two years at Lady Anstruther’s, he knew he had largely skated by on her good opinion of him. He could have pocketed the silver and there was nothing anyone below stairs could have done, they all knew her blind spot for him. Now, he would have to actually perform, and not in the bedroom.

He looked around his new room and fidgeted with his livery. It was cold and stiff, having been in a closet for God knew how long. Brimming with excess energy, he decided to make sure everything fit before he had to actually start work in the morning.

As he pulled on the shirt, he heard the floorboards creak behind him. “So you got the job then?”

Turning around, he saw a tall, elegant, dark-haired figure smiling hopefully at him.

Jimmy grinned at the man he remembered meeting on his interview day. “I’m on my way, Mr. Barrow!” he said, adjusting his shirt. “They say you were a footman once.”  

“That’s right.”

“So can I come to you if there’s anything I need to know?” He fixed his gaze intently on Mr. Barrow.

“Certainly. Why not?” Mr. Barrow colored slightly, his eyes drifting down Jimmy’s bare chest before quickly nodding and moving on down the hall. Oblivious, Jimmy turned back to his dressing table and smiled while fussing with his cuffs. It was good to have an ally. He’d always been a bit dense when it came to reading people and situations. Mr. Barrow impressed him as a confident and successful man. Maybe he could help Jimmy as he tried to figure out which end was up.

Consumed by his own flights of thought, Jimmy didn’t perceive Miss O’Brien pause outside his door. As her shrewd eyes darted from Jimmy to Thomas, the beginnings of an idea crept across her face.

 

~

 

As it turned out, Jimmy had good reason to be nervous. His first weeks at Downton were miserable. Soon after his arrival, the family suffered a terrible, unexpected loss in the death of their youngest daughter, Lady Sybil. Although Jimmy had had almost no contact with her, he was struck by the genuine emotional outpouring universally expressed by everyone above and below stairs. In particular, he was surprised and affected to see Mr. Barrow, normally so cool and collected, fly from the servant’s hall in tears after Carson broke the news. Downton was covered in the shroud of grief. It was an atmosphere Jimmy found particularly unsettling, as it reminded him too much of his past. But being the new chap, he had no one to seek out for diversion. At least, the one person who seemed to be the most hopeful candidate, Mr. Barrow, was struck harder by Lady Sybil’s death than most. Jimmy knew enough to know Mr. Barrow’s current suffering was worse than his own. When they were sitting together in the servant’s hall Jimmy tried offering a condolence, but Mr. Barrow acknowledged it with an unexpectedly intimate touch on Jimmy’s thigh. Jimmy tried to dismiss it as a grief-induced slip in Mr. Barrow’s otherwise keen judgment, but his skin seemed to tingle unsettlingly long after Mr. Barrow removed his hand. Afterward, Jimmy elected to suffer in silence and kept a respectful distance.

As he tried to learn his new job, Jimmy ruefully discovered that hubris was the quality he had developed most extensively while in Lady Anstruther’s employ. Carson seemed never to tire with finding fault in him, to the point where Jimmy wondered how worthless the other bloke was who had lost out on the job in favor of himself. Mrs. Hughes, while showing occasional kindness, was completely humorless during the work day. Mrs. Patmore had no forbearance whatsoever and often put more pepper in her orders than in her cooking. Alfred turned out to be an annoying, oversized lout who resented Jimmy’s very presence, particularly when the female staff were around. While there seemed to be a few promising prospects there, Jimmy never had any time to develop them.

In fact, he and Alfred had just been unceremoniously run out of the kitchen, right when Jimmy was starting to get a sense of whether the doe-eyed kitchen maid named Ivy might be worth his time. He slouched into the servant’s hall and flopped down in a chair, with Alfred lugging along behind him. Alfred claimed a chair nearby and glowered at Jimmy.

“What.” Jimmy said, meeting his gaze.

“Why do you have to be like that?” Alfred accused.

“Like what.” Jimmy said flatly.

“Like that. You’ve been doing it for weeks. Going on with her in front of everybody about babies and being prepared and all that.”

Jimmy smirked. “What, you think you have the knowledge to educate her in that department?”

Alfred balked. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t talk like that.” Jimmy said, rapidly losing his patience. “You obviously don’t have any experience in the matter.”

“I like nice girls.” Alfred said prudishly. “And nice girls don’t just go around doing… that.”

“Is that right.” Jimmy grinned smugly.

“What, like nature’s made a man of you?” Alfred challenged.

“It weren’t nature, it were me mum’s friend.” Jimmy said lightly, then added for effect, “...for starters.”

Jimmy and Alfred both startled when they unexpectedly heard a soft chuckle behind them, accompanied by the rustling of the newspaper. They turned in unison to see Mr. Barrow, previously unnoticed, lounging in the rocking chair by the fire, eyeing them inscrutably over the paper.

“Well, this is an interesting turn of conversation.” Mr. Barrow commented dryly.  

Alfred turned as red as his hair, then swirled on Jimmy. “You know I like her!” he bristled then stormed out of the room, hurling over his shoulder, “Just leave well enough alone!”

“I think a modern girl should be allowed to make up her own mind.” Jimmy countered to Alfred’s retreating back, noting that Ivy suddenly became more appealing if there was a challenge involved.

The sound of Thomas folding the newspaper brought Jimmy’s attention back into the room, and he turned back to the older man. Suddenly, he was keenly aware of his own inferior rank and the inappropriateness of his indiscreet comments. Expecting censure, he instead found his lordship’s valet studying him with a kind of academic interest.

“Well, well.” he said. His tone was serious but his eyes betrayed a teasing twinkle. “Was all that true?”

“Every word.” Jimmy relaxed. Seeing Thomas' continued interest, he pressed on cheekily. “She were a young woman me mother met at the war widows’ meetings. Not much older than me, I think. Later… well I think we both felt alone and needed some comfort. A nice woman, really.”

Jimmy paused, surprised at how much he had shared with a near stranger. He wasn’t prone to reflection. There was a lot in his life he would rather not think about so he instinctively resisted introspection in favor of superficially living in the present. In consequence he’d developed a great capacity for swagger and a habit of overindulgence in whatever gave him pleasure. Suddenly aware of how the conversation’s tone had downturned, he tried to regain some levity and get back on comfortable footing. “Anyway, that introduction came in handy at Lady Anstruther’s, if you know what I mean.”

“I may have an idea.” The two men looked at each other appraisingly.

“But she got so possessive. What’s the use of having all those beautiful people coming to visit if the lady of the house makes you off limits to them?”

Thomas laughed. “So that’s the reason you didn’t go to France with her. It’s not because you were afraid you wouldn’t like the food.”

“Who doesn’t like French food?” Jimmy grinned approvingly at the only person who had perceived his little lie. “Or French women? But I’ve got to keep me options open.”  

“So. We have a man of world right here at Downton.”

Jimmy raised a brow charmingly. “Well I don’t know about the world, Mr. Barrow.” he playfully bantered back. “But I know my way around a bedroom.”

Thomas' expression had barely a moment to darken in interest before Carson’s voice bellowed into the room. “And do you know your way around the silver cabinet, James? Because that is where you should be, helping Alfred with the polishing.”

Jimmy leapt up in embarrassment. He smiled quickly at Thomas, muttered his excuses and hastily left the room. Carson turned the weight of his glare on Thomas, who met it evenly and pointedly unfolded his newspaper. With a final warning look, Carson turned on his heel and followed Jimmy down the hall. Thomas smiled contentedly to himself, not seeing the words on the page.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**August 1920.**

Jimmy was pleased to have gotten in with Mr. Barrow, as his luck didn’t seem to improve over the ensuing weeks. He stumbled into trouble at every turn, and instead of finding help in Alfred he found he had a rival in almost every arena. His presence nettled Jimmy, not the least because with the same job and a shared room, they were in each other’s company almost constantly.

Alfred frequently loitered dopily in the kitchen or sulked in their room, so Jimmy took to lingering in the servant’s hall in the evenings just to get away from him. It was there that he got to know Mr. Barrow better, and at first he was glad of it. He enjoyed the man’s company and found him easy to engage in conversation. He was smart and witty, so unlike Alfred who didn’t possess a third of his vocabulary. Jimmy appreciated Mr. Barrow’s cool sarcasm and admired how polished he always seemed. Jimmy knew he was the opposite, never in control, always impulsively ending up with the wrong end of the stick. Jimmy came to rely on Mr. Barrow more and more, asking for his advice and bestowing his grateful charm on him in return.

In his self-absorption Jimmy failed to notice that his new friend behaved quite differently with him than with the other servants. Thomas, who never left any stone unturned in his mind, was fully aware that his actions threatened to reveal his inner hopes but found himself uncharacteristically struggling to maintain self-discipline. He doubted that Jimmy shared his predilection but wasn’t sure, and couldn’t resist the temptation to offer and look for subtle signs. Miss O’Brien frequently intimated he did, but Thomas was wary of believing her now that they had fallen out. There were times when Jimmy was downright flirtatious with him, although he lavished his attentions on a number of the maids as well. He also seemed to tolerate the minute lingering touches Thomas indulged in despite his better judgment. What did that mean? Thomas told himself he was satisfied with a budding friendship, and occasionally believed his own lie. He had never excelled at making friends and had long ago stopped trying, except in rare cases such as Jimmy’s. He was delighted that it seemed to be working.

At first Thomas’ interest was largely owed to Jimmy’s beauty, which he selfishly enjoyed admiring during the day and conjuring when he was alone at night. Smoking at his bedroom window with eyes closed, he would revisit the sensations; his fingers brushing Jimmy’s neck as he played piano, Jimmy practically in his arms as they wound the clocks. But as they came to know one another, Thomas found more than beauty. He genuinely liked the younger man. He was bright and impetuous, clever and loquacious, full of vitality and the promise of life. It was antithetical to the bitterness that festered deep in Thomas’ breast, the wounded pessimism fed by years of terrible loneliness, rejection, fear and crushed hopes. Thomas had an enormous capacity for love, but the repeated traumas of his life had instead developed in him a capacity for cruelty that was almost equally as vast. Rarely, a ray of light pierced through the carefully crafted shell he’d built around his heart. He could count on one hand the number of times he had experienced the bittersweet beauty of a bond with another man. At such moments, Thomas revealed a glimmer of the man he could be, not petty, vindictive, opportunistic and suspicious, but kind, generous and more loyal and loving than a dog. The last time had been years ago, cut short almost before it began when the man he could have loved succumbed to despair and ended his own life. Thomas had been devastated and feared that the same darkness would overtake him. For a time he’d sworn off love, not because he didn’t desire it but because he thought one more failed attempt might be the end of him. Then Jimmy arrived, stirring in him something he’d thought he no longer possessed: hope. Thomas carried the long unsatisfied yearning for companionship as permanently as his war wound, and in Jimmy’s presence it refused to be ignored. He found himself neglecting some of his duties in order to be near him. He even abandoned his nightly smoke break in the yard in order to linger in the servant’s hall where Jimmy spent his evenings. It was the highlight of his existence, fueling his days and inspiring his nights.

Such was the germination of the seed that lay between them when one evening Jimmy sought out Thomas. He strolled into the servant’s hall with a deck of cards and found the object of his search tucked in the corner with the newspaper. They were often the last to retire and over the weeks Jimmy had become accustomed to sharing late hours with him. He held up the cards in silent invitation.  Thomas nodded and set aside his newspaper. As Jimmy shuffled and dealt, Thomas glanced furtively at the door, then reached into his jacket.

“Nightcap?” he said slyly as he withdrew a flask from his pocket.

“My God, yes. Thank you, Mr. Barrow.”

“I told you before. Thomas.”  

“Thank you, Thomas.” Jimmy smiled and gratefully reached out his hand. His eyes fell on Thomas’ gloved left hand, which was offering him the flask. “Is that your blighty?” Jimmy asked impulsively as he took a large pull off the flask.

Thomas’ expression became more guarded as he nodded.

“Does it hurt?” Jimmy continued, feeling the warm disinhibition of the whiskey. He passed the flask back and studied Thomas’ hand with undisguised interest.

Still silent, Thomas shook his head. He took a drink to steady his nerves, then slipped the flask out of sight in his pocket.

“Then why do you wear the glove?” Jimmy continued.

“Because it looks terrible.” Thomas said honestly. “You know how much one’s hands are a focus of attention in service. It would make people uncomfortable.”

“It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy replied.

“Thomas.”

“Thomas.” The warmth in Jimmy’s voice drew Thomas in like a moth to flame. He hated yet yearned to be vulnerable, to share himself with someone and to be accepted by him. He found himself commanded by Jimmy’s kindness. Thomas swallowed nervously, then slowly unbuttoned his glove and slid it off. He hesitated a moment, then held out his hand to Jimmy.

Jimmy was completely unaware of what this small gesture cost Thomas but was nevertheless uncharacteristically gentle. He reached out, took Thomas’ hand in his own and studied it with soft eyes and an expression of compassion that melted Thomas’ heart. With his other hand, Jimmy ran his fingers lightly over the scars. He was so engrossed in his explorations he didn’t notice the small hitch in Thomas’ breathing. Thomas permitted Jimmy to turn his hand over and study the other side, then to individually bend and straighten all of his fingers. At last, Jimmy rested his own hand over Thomas’ so that his blighty was firmly held between Jimmy’s two warm hands.

“It’s not so bad, Thomas.” Jimmy said kindly.

Thomas met Jimmy’s eyes and was transfixed. Daring to hope, he started to curl his fingers around Jimmy’s hand.

“Well, thank heaven’s that’s done -- oh! Excuse me.” Mrs. Hughes exclaimed as she abruptly walked in on the men.

Thomas jumped, immediately pulled back his hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Mr. Barrow was showing me his bullet wound.” Jimmy said enthusiastically.

“Was he now?” Mrs. Hughes regarded them with interest.

“Yes.” Jimmy continued obliviously. “He’s a real war hero, our Mr. Barrow.”

“Aye, that he is.” Mrs. Hughes agreed, as Thomas stood abruptly and grabbed his glove with his right hand. His left remained securely stuffed in his pocket, where it squeezed the flask in agitation.  

“You’re up late, Mrs. Hughes.” Thomas finally managed.

“Yes, I was completing my monthly balance of the ledgers.” she sighed. “I’m not accustomed to staying up all hours like you young whippersnappers.”

Seeing an out, Thomas gratefully went for it. “It is late. If you’ll excuse me Mrs. Hughes, Jimmy…” He nodded at them awkwardly, then hastened for the door.

Mrs. Hughes watched him leave, then turned back to Jimmy. “My, my. In more than three years I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him without that glove on.”

“Really?” Jimmy was surprised.

Mrs. Hughes looked at him in bemusement, then shook her head. “Good night, James.”

“Good night, Mrs. Hughes.” he called to her retreating form, then turned back to the table. He wondered idly at her tone, then decided it didn’t matter. Collecting his cards, he rose and headed for the stairs.  

 

~

 

Something changed after that night that even Jimmy could finally appreciate. Thomas’ attentions, which at first seemed advantageous, had intensified to the point of near oppressiveness. Jimmy couldn’t understand what had turned the switch and was frustrated to have another complication, particularly with his only friend. In an unsettling way, it reminded him of Lady Anstruther. Physically and emotionally, Thomas was too close. His voice dropped intimately when he spoke to Jimmy, and his hands lingered on his body. His manner became almost obsequious, always agreeing with him in conversation or excessively complimenting him in ways that even he could see were unwarranted. Jimmy frequently found Thomas studying him with a strange, confidential expression as if they had some sort of shared secret, except Jimmy had no idea what that secret was. Despite his general liking for the man, unease settled in Jimmy’s breast whenever Thomas was around.  

None of this was lost on O’Brien, who had been following their growing friendship with keen interest. She always watched them with carefully downturned eyes or surreptitiously from just around the corner when they were together. And Thomas failed to disappoint her, especially when his grief over Lady Sybil made him more needy for what he felt was a growing bond with Jimmy. As Thomas’ demonstrativeness and Jimmy’s discomfort proportionately grew, so did O’Brien’s satisfaction.

One evening, Jimmy’s efforts at kindness were again repaid with unwelcome touches and soppy talk. When Jimmy’s eyes betrayed his unease, O’Brien saw her chance. Lingering behind the others, she approached him when they were alone in the servant’s hall.

“Anything the matter?” she asked pleasantly.

“No, no.” Jimmy lied, a small frown tugging at his lips. “But, Mr. Barrow’s so familiar all the time, isn’t he?”

“I’m glad to hear it.” O’Brien smiled encouragingly. “That’s a very good sign. If he’s taken to you, he’ll definitely put in a good word with his lordship.”

Jimmy scowled. “‘Cause I’d like to tell him to keep his distance.” he said confidentially.

“Do you want to get your marching orders, then?” O’Brien warned. Registering Jimmy’s expression, her tone changed. “Why, what are you implying? Nothing unseemly, I hope.”

Jimmy chewed nervously on his bottom lip. “No.” he said quickly, glancing in the direction Mr. Barrow had gone. “No, nothing like that.” He turned back to O’Brien and tried unsuccessfully to smile. “Good night.”

As Jimmy strode out of the servant’s hall, triumph bloomed on Miss O’Brien’s face. Unaware, Jimmy cleared the final set of stairs and walked down the hall in the servant’s quarters. He paused a moment outside Mr. Barrow’s door, considering his situation. “Bloody hell...” he muttered to himself, then quickly continued on to the safety of his own room.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

  **May 1924.**

“Bloody hell...” a youthful voice breathed in distress.

“We’re in a hospital not a beer hall, James.” Mrs. Hughes admonished. “There’s no need for that language. It won’t help Mr. Barrow.”

“Sorry.” Jimmy offered quickly. He glanced at Mrs. Hughes and Dr. Clarkson, then turned his gaze back to Thomas’ feverish figure in the hospital bed. His eyes took in the diaphoretic complexion, the irregular breathing and the shivering body under the blankets. “I knew he was sick. I mean, your telegram made it clear but… bloody hell.”

Mrs. Hughes sighed. “Alright, in the present circumstances I’ll let that go.” She turned to Dr. Clarkson. “James has offered to serve as a kind of -- medic if you will, for Mr. Barrow. Isn’t that so, James?”

Jimmy nodded mutely, staring in undisguised alarm at Thomas.

“That’s very generous of you.” Dr. Clarkson offered. “But I warn you, it will be long and difficult work. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Jimmy swallowed, then looked up at Dr. Clarkson. “Yes.” He said firmly. “I owe him that.”

A questioning look flashed across Dr. Clarkson’s face before quickly returning to it’s usual clinical neutrality. “Very well then.” Dr. Clarkson acquiesced. “You’ll need to learn how to perform the irrigation. Can you return in one hour? I can show you then.”  

“Yes.” Jimmy replied, then added, “But, can I sit with him until you’re ready?”

Dr. Clarkson nodded. “Yes, of course. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Mrs. Hughes briefly laid a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder and smiled at him kindly. She then turned and followed Dr. Clarkson out of the hospital ward.

Jimmy watched as the nurse pulled the privacy screen across the foot of the bed, blocking the retreating figures from view. As their footsteps clicked away, Jimmy gazed uncertainly at Thomas. He looked terrible. His pale skin was tinged with a feverish flush, the purple circles under his eyes were violent as bruises. His normally perfectly groomed hair was stuck to his forehead in a cold sweat. Even his breathing was labored. Jimmy could easily see that under the blankets, Thomas’ whole body was gripped in rigorous suffering. Looking around, he saw a small metal chair near the window, and went to retrieve it. He carefully placed it next to Thomas’ bed and sat down, overwhelmed by the sight before him. His eyes settled on Thomas’ right hand, which hung limply over the edge of the bed. He reached out and gently took Thomas’ hand between both of his. It was cool and wet, and he could feel the thready pulse struggling just below the delicate skin of the wrist. Jimmy traced the pulse with his fingers, then leaned his forehead against their clasped hands. “Oh Thomas,” he breathed, below a whisper. “Thomas.”

For a moment, he thought he felt the other man stir.

 


	5. Chapter 5

  **September 1920.**

Jimmy scuffed into the servant’s hall with a cup of tea, feeling thoroughly foul. It had been another horrible day. Somehow, even though Alfred had dumped half the fish in Old Lady Grantham’s lap, Jimmy was the one who ended up being chastised by Carson for “taking charge.” _Saving the day, more like,_  Jimmy fumed. _And Carson can’t have anyone doing that but himself._ Now, Alfred was off at the pictures with the girls and Jimmy was stuck here alone.

Except he wasn’t alone. Upon entering the servant’s hall, he saw Thomas. Despite the familiar creep of wariness that stole through Jimmy, he really needed a sympathetic ear, and Thomas could always be counted upon for that. In fact, he had to admit that Thomas had already saved him once today by reigning in his temper and suggesting that things could be “managed.” From a safe distance on the other side of the table, Jimmy found himself pouring out his troubles. “It’s not bloody fair,” he concluded.

“Well, I love you,” Thomas said casually, shaking a cigarette out of the pack.

Jimmy tried to match his breezy tone. “Well if you do, you’re on your own.”

They chatted briefly, and despite his initial hesitation Jimmy found himself telling Thomas about the loss of his parents and his lack of close family. He had to admit to himself that Thomas was easy to talk to. At the end of another frustrating day he found Thomas’ steadiness reassuring, at least until he intimated that they were both lonely. Jimmy felt himself tense in response and refused to acknowledge that he understood Thomas’ meaning. But he had to admit he did find some comfort in Thomas’ comparison of the two of them, how they both liked to look sure of themselves but really weren’t underneath. After all, Thomas had managed to attain a respectable position at Downton. Being a valet to an earl was nothing for a working bloke to scoff at. _If we are similar,_ Jimmy thought, _maybe I can get somewhere too._ As Miss O’Brien joined them, Jimmy’s mood had improved enough to toss out a few jokes at his own expense before retiring for the night. _Maybe I was wrong about him,_ he thought as he headed upstairs. _Maybe Thomas is not so bad after all._

Thomas gazed warmly after Jimmy, then remembered too late that he was not alone. Trying to ignore O’Brien, he picked up his newspaper and endeavored to retrieve his impassive mask. He was unsuccessful. O’Brien registered the besotted look he failed to hide and in it she saw her opportunity.

“He’s a funny one, isn’t he?” she opened.

Glaring at her in warning, he exhaled cigarette smoke tensely and remained silent.

“You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.” she continued undeterred. “I know what’s going on.”

“You’re quite wrong, Miss O’Brien.” Thomas feigned amusement. “He’s a proper little ladies’ man.”

“Oh if that’s how you want to play it.” O’Brien smiled confidentially.

“What are you going on about?!”

“There’s no need to bark.” she affected innocence. “I only know what Alfred tells me.”

Thomas’ confidence wavered. Looking down, he muttered, “Well if he says Jimmy’s interested in me, he’s lying.”

O’Brien watched with satisfaction as the chinks in his armor revealed the vulnerable softness beneath. Without hesitation she moved in for the kill. “Oh dear.” she whispered, then paused for effect. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

The blow landed perfectly. Involuntarily he met her eyes and she perceived the anguished hope he was incapable of hiding. With a knowing smile, she rose and left him.   

Thomas remained alone in the servant’s hall, his jaw set as he struggled against the violent turmoil inside him. He sat rigid, jaw muscles tightened, flicking his cigarette repeatedly in agitation. With near clairvoyance he could picture Jimmy’s half naked body upstairs as he prepared for bed: muscled arms, broad bare chest, flat stomach. He imagined water running down Jimmy’s face, his tongue flicking out to lap the drops clinging to his full lips. The images lingered unbidden, haunting Thomas, bringing his body alive with a yearning beyond lust. O’Brien’s words had shattered the remaining vestiges of self-control. Full awareness rained upon him: he craved Jimmy body and soul.

In desperation Thomas fled to the privacy of his room, but in his distress it was more of a prison than a refuge. He yanked off his shirt and threw it in frustration onto a chair, then paced the room in agony. His hands came up to his face and he felt sweat beading his upper lip. Sinking onto his bed, he wrung his hands together and tried desperately to suppress the urge that was overtaking him.

He failed. Desire consumed him. Thomas was alone. Jimmy was alone. This was the opportunity he’d so vividly dreamed of since he first saw Jimmy, and it possessed him completely. Of it’s own will, his body moved silently into the hall and down to Jimmy’s door. He hesitated a moment, hand on the door, then noiselessly opened it. Jimmy lay asleep on his back, his face illuminated gloriously by a wisp of moonlight that peeked through the window. He was more beautiful than Thomas had ever beheld him and any last shreds of caution blew away at the sight. Thomas moved into the room, closing the door behind him. He slowly approached the bed, breathless. Like a worshipper before an altar, he sank down before his idol and reached out.

 

~

 

Feeling reassured, Jimmy had finally drifted to sleep. He floated in light unconsciousness, dreaming loosely of warmth and comfort. He felt strangely secure and loved, as sultry wisps of musky cologne and cigarette smoke slowly drew in close to his face. He turned minutely into the seductive heat pressing lightly but urgently on his lips, and felt a soft moan rumble in his throat.

Jarringly, three loud raps and Alfred’s ungainly voice pierced through his dream. Jimmy opened his confused eyes and saw… a man. And not just a man, Thomas Barrow. He was barely an inch from him in his undershirt, his hand on Jimmy’s cheek, his arm and his now recognizable scent wrapped around Jimmy in bed.

Jimmy panicked. “Get off! Get the bloody hell off me!” he cried, waving his arms and kicking his legs ineffectually under the sheet. In an instant he’d flown to his feet, shaking and screaming. “Alfred, it’s not what you think!”

“Don’t do that, please.” Thomas pleaded in alarm. “Alfred doesn’t matter, no one will believe a word he says, he’s nothing.”

Jimmy turned red-faced on Thomas. Revulsion coursed through him and he felt intensely vulnerable. “What are you doing?! Why are you in here?!” he sputtered, barely able to contain himself.

“Because of what you said! Because of all there is between us.” Thomas’ voice was high-pitched in desperation, and he reached out to cup Jimmy’s face.

“There’s nothing between us except my fist if you don’t get out!!” Jimmy slapped away Thomas’ arms and raged into his shocked countenance. “And if you tell anybody ---” he broke off and strode away, speechless and shaking.

“But what about the things you said?” Thomas’ hand rose to his forehead in genuine confusion.

“I said nothing but get out! Go on, get out, Thomas!!” Jimmy whirled back on him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving his bewildered form out the door before slamming and locking it.

“WHAT is going on?” Carson bellowed as he stormed into the hall, hastily tying his dressing gown around him.

Thomas had been thinking the same thing, but the growing understanding filled him with dread. “Nothing, Mr. Carson.” He said quietly, eyes downcast. “Jimmy...uh, James had a nightmare. He’s fine now.”

Carson skulked back into his room with another slam of a door. Thomas wavered in the hallway, his jaw dropped in continued disbelief. _Oh God,_ he thought. _This can’t be happening._ He slowly turned, a cold sweat pricking his entire body as the weight of his colossal mistake settled monumentally upon him. His normally inscrutable countenance was gripped in unadulterated terror. Unable to breathe, he looked back at Jimmy’s door. It was open a crack. All of Thomas’ worst fears were confirmed by the look on Alfred’s menacing face.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**May 1924.**

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Jimmy reluctantly released Thomas’ hand. Dr. Clarkson pulled back the privacy screen, then turned to Jimmy. “Are you ready?”

Jimmy felt his stomach lurch but bravely nodded. He stood up with resolve and waited for instructions.

“We will help you with the morphine dosing for now.” Dr. Clarkson said as he cracked the ampule and drew up the medication into a syringe. Jimmy was loathe to turn his eyes away from Thomas, but knew he needed to focus on Dr. Clarkson in order to learn the skills to care for him. After slowly infusing morphine into Thomas’ IV, Dr. Clarkson then rolled up his sleeves and motioned for Jimmy to do the same. As he instructed Jimmy on how to scrub properly, they heard Thomas mutter something unintelligible. Jimmy turned hopefully to Thomas and looked at Dr. Clarkson for confirmation. Understanding his vain hope, Dr. Clarkson gently said, “I’m afraid it’s the fever. It will cause people to say things sometimes, that may or may not make sense. Delirium can provoke vivid dreams or memories of intense experiences.”

Thomas seemed to settle as the morphine took effect. Satisfied that his patient was more comfortable, Dr. Clarkson led Jimmy over to the irrigation set-up and carefully explained every piece of equipment. When they were ready to begin the procedure, he turned to Jimmy with a note of caution. “I’m afraid this part is the most unpleasant. The water has been boiled and completely cooled, so it is sterile. You’ll need to ensure you have plenty of it on hand.” When Dr. Clarkson began the irrigation, Thomas instantly cried out in wordless pain. Jimmy jumped, bolted to the bedside and placed his hands on Thomas. He looked uncertainly at Dr. Clarkson, who had paused the procedure to assess Thomas.

Dr. Clarkson administered an additional dose of morphine, then waited. Within moments, Thomas settled into a weak whimper. Torn between learning the irrigation technique and comforting Thomas, Jimmy tried to note to everything all at once. “It’s important to continue the irrigation, James. Keep going until the water runs clear, no matter how long it takes. Now you try.”

Jimmy took the equipment in his shaking hands. As Dr. Clarkson gently guided him through every step, his own pounding heart began to calm. After a few moments, Dr. Clarkson said,  “See now? The water is clear and the patient is comfortable. This round of irrigation is complete.”

Jimmy sank into a chair in traumatized silence as Dr. Clarkson dressed the wound. _How am I going to do this?_ he wondered desperately.

As if reading his mind, Dr. Clarkson said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, James. The procedure is very simple. We’ll try to support you as much as possible until you feel comfortable performing it independently.” Still unable to speak, Jimmy simply nodded.

After they had both cleaned their hands, Dr. Clarkson discreetly pulled the privacy screen across the end of Thomas’ bed. They were utterly shielded from view. Jimmy listened for a moment to the doctor’s fading footsteps and turned back to Thomas. Hesitantly, Jimmy moved over and sat on the edge of the bed. Reaching across Thomas, Jimmy placed his right hand on the far side of the bed. Then he stretched over his prostrate figure and worriedly studied his face. Illness lay upon it like a shroud.

Leaning closer, he moved his left hand up to Thomas’ cheek. As he lightly caressed it, he wondered if he was imagining Thomas’ breathing becoming more regular under his touch. He thought of all the things Thomas had been to him over the years: mentor, assailant, enemy, friend, lover, then ex-lover and finally, memory. Jimmy moved even closer, until his face was just a few inches from Thomas’ insensible one. The image of their first catastrophic kiss washed over him as he realized they were in the exact same arrangement, only with their positions reversed.  Even though he had persecuted Thomas for a year for doing what he was about to do, Jimmy couldn’t help himself. Gently, he touched his lips to Thomas’ in a soft, lingering kiss. Thomas stirred slightly but did not wake.

Jimmy lay his head on the pillow next to Thomas' cheek. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through Thomas’ hair. “Thomas,” he whispered, his lips close to Thomas’ ear, “please come back.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**September 1920.**

Thomas didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Every time he closed his eyes, nightmares played across his eyelids: Alfred’s disgust. Carson’s anger. And Jimmy’s loathing. Jimmy. Jimmy. _Jimmy._

Thomas hoped desperately that his memory was playing tricks on him. Maybe Jimmy hadn’t looked at him with terrified fury. Maybe he didn’t really mean it when he threatened him with his fists. Maybe he would let Thomas apologize and try to explain.

Breakfast not only confirmed Thomas’ fears, they deepened them. Trying to wear a face of cautious friendliness, Thomas held out a platter of toast toward Alfred and Jimmy. In response, they both merely glared with undisguised revulsion. Deflated, Thomas lowered both the plate and his eyes.

“What is it?” Anna asked tersely. “What is going on?”

Noting Anna’s tone, Mrs. Hughes looked up. “James? What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” Jimmy sneered insolently.

Unconvinced, Mrs. Hughes pressed on. “Alfred?”

“Ask Mr. Barrow.” Alfred countered accusingly.

“It’s nothing.” Thomas said quietly to the table. “Really.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” Mr. Moseley offered with characteristic obtuseness. Thomas looked up at him intently, silently willing him to stop talking.

Ivy entered and placed a platter on the table. “Oh, Ivy!” Jimmy dripped salaciously. “Never mind the toast, you look very tasty yourself this morning.”

“What did you say?!” Mr. Carson spoke up in surprise.

“Well can’t a red-blooded man compliment a pretty girl?” Jimmy continued, looking pointedly at Thomas.

“Not at breakfast, for heaven’s sake!” Carson answered indignantly.

“Oh…” slipped from Ivy’s embarrassed lips as she hastily turned and hurried out.

As Alfred stood, O’Brien took up the baton. “Alfred, what’s happened?”

“Not now.” he muttered curtly.

“Well, if there is anything I ought to know, I hope I hear about it before the end of the day.” Carson said with an authority that made it clear he was not offering a choice.

Thomas looked fearfully from Alfred to Jimmy, who were both staring at him. There was no forgiveness in their eyes.

~

Jimmy hated everyone. He hated Carson for watching him non-stop, he hated Mrs. Hughes and Anna for calling him out at breakfast and he hated himself for somehow ending up in this situation in the first place. But most of all, he hated Thomas. Everything led back to Thomas.

As a witness to Jimmy’s shame, Alfred was no better and Jimmy hated him too. “Why do you keep giving me funny looks?!” Jimmy hissed at him that night as they served in the drawing room.

“I’m not.” Alfred responded flatly.

“What’s going on?” Carson whispered with a scowl. “Have you both been up to something I don’t know about?”

“Not both of us.” Alfred looked pointedly at Jimmy, who glared back in jaw-clenched anger.

All Jimmy wanted was for everyone to forget it ever happened.

~

“I don’t need to tell you that this is a criminal offense.” Carson fumed, still reeling from Alfred’s account of the night before. 

 _No, you don’t._ Thomas thought. He stood before Carson, a cold sweat clinging to his entire body. He glanced at the closed door of Carson’s sitting room and hoped fervently that no one could hear Carson bellowing from his chair behind his desk.

“We hadn’t done anything.” He tried to keep his voice calm and placating.

“But you were hoping to do something if Alfred hadn’t come in!”

“It’s not against the law to hope, is it?” Thomas said quietly.

“Don’t you get clever with me when you should be horse whipped!” Carson sputtered in fury.

Thomas continued to stare at the floor. He searched his mind for a way to diffuse the situation, but in his raw and sleep-deprived state, he felt mired in mud.  

Aware of his lapse in professionalism, Carson sighed and made an effort to collect himself. “Do you have a defense?” he asked more calmly. “Am I mistaken in any part of this?”

“Not really Mr. Carson.” Thomas knew honesty was his only real option, but he felt humiliatingly exposed nonetheless. “As for a defense, what can I say? I was very... drawn to him, and I’d got the impression that he felt the same way.” Swallowing his heartbreak he added, “I was wrong.”

“It seems an odd mistake to make.” Carson muttered to his desk.

 _Do I really have to explain this?_ Thomas thought bitterly, but tried to keep his voice even. “When you’re like me, Mr. Carson, you have to read the signs as best you can because no one dares speak out.”

“I do not wish to take a tour of your revolting world.” In his disgust Carson was unable to look up at Thomas.

“No.” Thomas acknowledged.

“So, are you saying that James is the innocent party in all this?”

“Yes, Mr. Carson, he is.”  

“I will take time to consider.” Carson replied. “We must first find out what James intends to do. He’d be within his rights to report you to the police.”

Thomas stood with his mouth open, speechless in horror. He hadn’t considered this.

“Although I’m quite sure it won’t come to that.” Carson added. “Will you give me your word that nothing had happened?”

“I will, yes.” Thomas replied fervently.

“Right. Good night.” Carson said with finality.

Desperate to escape, Thomas moved quickly to the door and let himself out.

~

The following day Thomas again stood stiffly before Carson in his sitting room, like a convict awaiting his sentence.

“Mr. Bates has had his rest now and would like to get back to work. It’s time to draw a line under this whole unfortunate episode.”

“So I go out the window.” Thomas bit his lip bitterly.

“I cannot hide that I find your situation revolting.” Carson said unnecessarily, because he was in fact not trying to hide it at all. “But whether or not you believe me, I am not entirely unsympathetic. You have been twisted by nature into something foul, and even I can see that you did not ask for it. I think it better that you resign, quietly, citing the excuse that Mr. Bates has returned. I will write a perfectly acceptable reference and you will find that there’s nothing about it that’s hard to explain.”

“I see.” Thomas had heard all he could stand, and his lips were pressed in a grim line. “What about tonight?”

“It’s nearly time to change, so you should dress him tonight and let Mr. Bates take over tomorrow.” Carson’s tone indicated the conversation was over.

Thomas nodded and moved toward the door. Then he stopped, unable to let one thing go. With quiet dignity, he straightened up to his full height, turned and looked down at the seated Carson.

“I’m not foul, Mr. Carson.” Thomas spoke slowly, emphasising every word. “I’m not the same as you, but I am not foul.”

“Yes, well…” Carson trailed off uncomfortably, a twinge of regret pricking his conscience. “Now if you will excuse me, I will ring the gong.”

Carson moved quickly toward the door, then stopped abruptly before Thomas, who hadn’t moved. Thomas continued to stand upright, shoulders squared. He met Carson’s eyes directly, without impertinence or capitulation. Awkwardly, Carson reached for the door. Opening it, he saw O’Brien hovering in the hallway.

“Come along, Miss O’Brien.” Carson chafed with annoyance. “Time to stop eavesdropping and do some work.”

“I don’t know what you mean….” she started to say to Carson’s back, but abandoned the lie when it was evident he was gone.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**September 1920.**

Jimmy couldn’t understand why the situation just wouldn’t die. He was the wounded party, why did everyone else have to stick their noses in? The bulk of the downstairs staff now were involved. Jimmy blamed Alfred almost as much as Thomas. If Alfred hadn’t barked to Carson, Jimmy wouldn’t have had the humiliating experience of having to explain everything to Carson’s righteously indignant countenance. Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes both looked at him with condescension as if he were a misbehaving child who had somehow invited all this drama. And all that the female staff could do was stare at him in curious ignorance and cluck to each other about “poor Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy was angry, frightened, and worst of all, confused. He hated to admit to himself that he didn’t understand what was going on. He needed some advice, but the person he’d become most comfortable seeking it from was Thomas.  

Jimmy sat uncharacteristically deep in rumination, then realized he had lost all track of time. When the clock in the servant’s hall caught his attention, he jumped up.

“Crikey! I’d better go.”

Unexpectedly, Miss O’Brien spoke. “Before you do, a little bird tells me Mr. Carson has made up his mind to deal with Thomas after all.”

Jimmy looked at her absently. He hadn’t even noticed she was there. “Well it’s about time…”

“I only meant if you want to register your anger at how Thomas treated you, now is the hour.” she pushed.

“I’m not sure.” Jimmy fidgeted with his white gloves. Seeing the look on O’Brien’s face, he quickly added. “I’m still disgusted by the whole thing, obviously.” 

“Obviously.” she emphasized the word with a faintly mocking tone that wasn’t lost on Jimmy. “But if you don’t speak out, people might think you weren’t disgusted at all.”

Jimmy stopped mid-stride and listened warily. With satisfaction, O’Brien saw his eyes widen in fear.

“Now you must excuse me.” she concluded benignly. “I ought to be upstairs.”

As she let her words steep, a small smile turned her lips. Jimmy was an easy mark.

~

Later that night, Jimmy knocked on the door as Carson put away the silver.

“Come.”

Jimmy poked his head in the door. “Mr. Carson, is it true Mr. Barrow’s leaving?”

“Yes, and for what it’s worth…” Carson put down the silver consomme service and indicated with his hand to close the door. He waited until Jimmy had done so before continuing. “I think he was genuinely mistaken over the, ah… incident, and he’s sorry now. Which of course is no excuse.” he added hastily.

“I want to be sure you’ll give him a bad reference.” Jimmy declared with resolve.

“I’m sorry?” Carson was unused to receiving orders from a footman.

“I can’t let a man like that go to work in innocent people’s houses.” Jimmy continued righteously.

“I will write him the character I think he deserves.” Carson’s tone meant to put an end to it.

“Can I read it?”

“Certainly not!”

“Because I’ve been thinking… I ought to report him to the police.” Jimmy continued, the bit between his teeth. 

“What?” wariness creeped into Carson’s voice.

“It’s my duty. I know today thinking is much more liberal --”

“Now, just a minute.” Carson interjected angrily. “I’ve never been called a liberal in my life and I don’t intend to start now.” He stopped for a moment to reconsider his approach. “But I do not believe in scandal. Mr. Barrow will go, and when he does I would like him to go quietly, for the sake of the house, the family, and for that matter, you.”  

With O’Brien’s words still stinging, Jimmy ignored the look of warning. “I’m sorry Mr. Carson, but I can’t stay quiet if my conscience prompts me differently. I won’t turn a blind eye to sin.”

Jimmy marveled at the words coming out of his mouth. He wasn't religious nor did he particularly care where Thomas went as long as it was away from Downton. He was struggling to maintain his composure in the face of Carson’s clear disapproval but felt a nervous sweat condensing on his upper lip. Straightening his waist coat, he tried to look confident as he strode out of the room. After Carson loudly shut the door behind him, Jimmy’s resolve withered. Running his hands through his hair, he looked worriedly at the closed door and wondered what he’d really set in motion.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**September 1920.**

Throughout his life, Thomas had learned to assume the worst. It was rare then for him to have underestimated the gravity of his current situation. Consequently, he struggled against blind panic in the face of what Carson had just told him.

“I’m to leave with no reference?!” he cried. “After working here for ten years?”

Even the typically reserved Carson was affected by Thomas’ emotional response. “I’m afraid my hands are tied.” he answered with genuine regret.

“I’ll never get a job now, Mr. Carson!” Thomas coughed and fought back tears. “Does his lordship know about this?”

“No.” Carson said emphatically.

“Then I’m going to tell him.” Thomas sputtered out.

“And how would you do that without telling him the rest of it?” Carson pointed out, but not unkindly.

Thomas couldn’t think. With effort, he tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath.

“This wasn’t Jimmy’s idea. Somebody’s putting him up to it.” Thomas paced the room, arms swinging in agitation.

Sitting at his desk, Carson listened carefully, considering Thomas’ point.

“He wouldn’t be so unkind, not left to himself.” Thomas continued, sniffling.

Carson felt a pang of surprising sympathy for the man who had caused him so much trouble over the years. “I’m almost touched that you will defend him under such circumstances, but...” he paused, knowing it changed nothing. “There it is.”

There was no color in Thomas’ face as he tried to pull himself together. Finally, he turned to Carson, squared his shoulders and did what he had always hated to do. He asked for help. “Well can I stay here for a day or two while I come up with some sort of plan?”

Carson, still moved, nodded his head. “Yes, I think I can allow that. But that’s the best I can do.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carson.” Thomas managed, then hurried out the door as the tears began to fall. He headed straight for the yard, knowing it was the only place he could be alone. He would never make it up four flights of stairs to his room without being seen.

Once outside in the darkness, he bolted blindly behind an outbuilding and sank down into a crouch, sobbing. Despair ran over him, as cold and unrelenting as the rain, chilling him body and soul.

“Mr. Barrow?” Mrs. Hughes’ concerned voice pierced through from nowhere. “What in heaven’s name are you doing out here?”

Thomas rose to standing, twisting his hat in his hands. He tried to speak but couldn’t as his body shuddered with uncontrollable sobs.

Mrs. Hughes approached him, taking in his tear-streaked face and soaked clothing. “I know you’re leaving but things can’t be as black as all that. You’re trained now. You could apply for a position as a butler.” 

“You don’t know everything then.” Thomas choked out, shivering violently.

“Then will you tell me everything?”

Fresh tears spilled from Thomas’ puffy eyes and ran down his face, mingling with the rain. His voice sounded uncharacteristically high and young. “I’m afraid if I do, Mrs. Hughes, then it will shock and disgust you.” Unable to look up, he continued twisting his hat in his hands.

“Shock and disgust? My, my. I think I have to hear it now. Come on.” Mrs. Hughes kindly wrapped her arm around his back and led him toward the door.

Thomas hesitated at the threshold. Understanding, Mrs. Hughes patted his arm. “Wait here.” She disappeared inside for a moment, then returned. “The coast is clear, Mr. Barrow. No one will see you. Now come on in out of this rain.”

Thomas allowed himself to be led into Mrs. Hughes sitting room, where she settled him onto a chair and wrapped a throw around his shoulders. Closing the door behind her, she returned a few minutes later with tea service for two. After ten years, she knew how he took it: milk, no sugar. She placed a cup in front of him and waited. When he said nothing, she reached out and encouragingly laid her hand on his.

“I’m ruined, Mrs. Hughes.” he began.

Mrs. Hughes listened without interruption as Thomas’ words tripped and fell out of him in a flood of pain and tears. She was unsurprised by Thomas’ acknowledgement of his feelings for James. She had suspected as much, given that he was the only object of Thomas’ kindness. But irritation grew in her breast as the details were revealed to her. _So it’s not just the kitchen maids James is playing with,_ she thought to herself, lips pressed in a firm line. _That prancing peacock won’t be satisfied until the whole house is broken-hearted._

But she had to acknowledge that Thomas was right. It really was worse than she had thought. What surprised her the most was not the situation, but how destroyed the usually tenacious Thomas was by it. She had never seen him like this before. Whatever his faults, his difficult life had taught him to take it on the chin. Seeing him crumpled in her chair, sniffling and absent-mindedly wiping his eyes on her throw like a small child, filled her with a sense of maternal outrage. This man needed her help.

“Try not to give in to despair, Thomas. Somehow you will be alright.”

The warmth in her voice, as well as the use of his Christian name, made Thomas look up into her face. He saw only kindness in return, and no judgment. A final tear slid down his cheek but the sobs had ceased.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” she said honestly. “But if anyone can manage to land on his feet, it’s you.”

She rose and walked over to the chest of drawers. Opening the top one, she reached in and took out a neatly folded handkerchief. She returned, placed it in Thomas’ hands and rested hers on top of it with a small squeeze.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.” Thomas whispered, dabbing at his eyes with the handkerchief. She watched him with compassion as he rose and moved with the effort of an old man down the hallway toward the door to the yard. Then, she strode purposefully toward Mr. Carson’s sitting room.

~

“You cannot allow him to blackmail you like this. And before you ask, Thomas has told me the whole story.” Mrs. Hughes fumed as Carson poured two small glasses of sherry.

“I’m only sorry you had to listen to such horrors.” He said, offering her a glass.

“Why?” she bristled at his tone of superiority. “Do you think Thomas is the first man of that sort that I’ve ever come across?”

Carson’s eyes widened. “I would hope so!”

“Well he isn’t. And I’ll tell you something else. I think James may have led him on.”

Taken aback, Carson sputtered his response. “Oh! I cannot listen to such allegations.”

“Calm down. I don’t mean deliberately.” Mrs. Hughes said with amusement at Carson’s tender sensibilities. “But he’s a vain and silly flirt. And he may have given Thomas the wrong impression without meaning to.”

Carson still hadn’t recovered. “I can hardly believe we are having this conversation.”

“Maybe not. but I won’t sit by and let that young whippersnapper ruin a man for the rest of his life. Not a man who was wounded in the service of king and country.”

“We may have no choice. These practices with which you are apparently so familiar are against the law.”

“I know that.” she acquiesced with impatience.

“Very well then. If we stand up to James and he goes to the police, it will only put Thomas in prison which he will not thank you for.” Carson admonished.

Mrs. Hughes set down her glass of sherry. Her face laced with worry as she tried vainly to see a way out for Thomas. She hoped dearly that both Thomas and Carson were wrong, but she was beginning to think they weren’t.  

 


	10. Chapter 10

**May 1924.**

Mrs. Hughes paused at the door of the hospital ward and stood quietly watching. It had been three days. Thomas still lay in restless insensibility, but his color looked better and his appearance was unexpectedly neat. Jimmy sat on the bed beside him, his back to Mrs. Hughes, unaware of her presence. With a soft cloth, he gently removed the last bit of shaving cream from Thomas’ face. His fingertips lingered over Thomas’ lips for just a moment. She thought she heard him murmur something but couldn’t make out the words. Jimmy then took a comb off the bedside table and carefully combed Thomas’ clean wet hair into a style that looked exactly like the one Thomas usually wore. In fact, under Jimmy’s ministrations Thomas almost appeared as though he were merely asleep. As Mrs. Hughes approached them, Jimmy looked up then rose to his feet.

“Good afternoon, Jimmy.” Mrs. Hughes said.

Jimmy started at the use of his preferred name. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hughes.” he replied as he pulled a fresh pillowcase over a pillow.

“And how are things here? How is your patient?” She looked down at Thomas. He still looked terribly ill, but his face was no longer twisted with pain. She hoped that was some indication of improvement.

“He’s still delirious, but Dr. Clarkson said that’s to be expected at this stage. He said that washing is a good way to keep the fevers down.”

“Well, you’ve done a good job. He almost looks like himself again.”

“We both know Thomas can’t stand to be unkempt.” Jimmy carefully cradled Thomas’ head in one hand while he removed the damp pillow with the other. He placed it on the floor, then took the fresh dry pillow off the chair and slid it under Thomas. He then gently lay Thomas’ head back on the pillow and tucked a stray hair back in place. Turning to Mrs. Hughes, he offered her the now empty metal chair by the bed. After she sat, he settled on the corner of the bed, one hand resting lightly on Thomas.

“He hasn’t awakened, then?”

“No.”

Mrs. Hughes leaned over and patted Jimmy’s hand maternally. “Now, now. It does no good to worry. You have to keep your strength and your spirits up if you are to be of help to him.”

“I know.” Jimmy said softly. “I’m doing everything I can, Mrs. Hughes.”

“I can see that.” she affirmed. “In fact, I don’t think I ever saw you take that much care with any of your old tasks up at the Abbey.”

Jimmy smiled at her little jab.

“Speaking of the Abbey, I brought you some things.” She placed the basket she had been carrying on the floor. “Mrs. Patmore and Daisy sent some sandwiches, fruit and pudding. Mr. Moseley sent down a pack of cards and some books from his own collection. And I found some old dressing supplies from when we were a convalescent home during the war. I’ve given them a good washing so they are ready to be used.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.” Jimmy said with feeling. “That’s really so very kind of all of you.”

“You’re the one who is being kind, Jimmy.” she replied, then added pointedly, “I must say, you’ve changed.”   

Jimmy looked uncomfortably at his hands. He always knew Mrs. Hughes didn’t have a high opinion of him, but it still stung to hear it confirmed.

“I’m not saying this to distress you.” she continued. “I mean it as a compliment. It really is a kindness you’re doing now. It makes me understand why he always thought so highly of you.”

“I didn’t deserve it.” Jimmy confessed. “I’m afraid I’ve treated him badly.”

“Well, he made his mistakes too, that’s to be sure. But now is your chance to prove his faith in you was not misplaced.”

“I will.” Jimmy looked up with full eyes. “You can trust me.”

“I do.” Mrs. Hughes was touched by the sincerity etched on Jimmy’s face. “I trust you because Mr. Barrow trusts you. In fact, I think you just might be the only person he has ever trusted. And that’s why I telegrammed for you.”   

“I’m glad you did, Mrs. Hughes.” Jimmy said, looking down at Thomas. “I mean it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. If there’s anything I can do to make him better, I’ll do it. Like you said, this is my last chance.”


	11. Chapter 11

**September 1920.**

With Mrs. Hughes, Thomas had cried out his panic and was now settling into bitter resignation. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep for hours, he wandered outside in the darkness, smoking. As he lingered in the shadows, he saw Mr. Bates come out of his cottage, a coal bin in one hand and a lantern in the other. He watched idly as Mr. Bates studied the window frames of the cottage.

A small crunch of gravel under Thomas’ foot caught Bates’ attention. He turned but could only see the glowing tip of Thomas’ cigarette. Slowly, Thomas moved forward into the small circle of light cast by Bates’ lantern. Bates was struck by his appearance. His face was deathly pale but his eyes were red, which emphasized the look of quiet challenge burning in them. Slowly, Bates approached him.

“Inspecting the love nest?” Acid dripped from Thomas’ voice.

“Just fetching some coal.” Bates was wary but unafraid.

“I envy you.”

“Whatever you say.” Bates said dismissively.

“No, I mean it. The happy couple, and everyone so pleased for you. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“Perhaps you should try being nicer.” Bates offered acerbically, but wondered why he was engaging when he didn’t care what Thomas thought. 

“It’s being nice that got me into trouble.”

Now Bates was interested. “What do you mean?” 

“Never mind.” Thomas’ voice was quiet but venomous. “I’ll be gone soon, and out of your hair. You’ll be glad of that.”

“Yes I will be.” Bates heard himself say, but watched with piqued interest as Thomas moved away from him into the darkness.

~

Bates continued to be bothered by the change in Thomas. Something was going on, something wrong. Since his time in prison, Bates seemed unable to turn away from injustice, even in the case of someone he found so strongly distasteful. Seeing the perennially battle-ready Barrow look roundly defeated haunted him. He discussed it with Anna then approached Mrs. Hughes, who was able to provide the context Bates was seeking. After consideration, he raised the issue with his lordship one morning as he dressed him for the day.

“Why didn’t Carson tell me?” Lord Grantham asked with concern.  “He’s the one who is being undermined.”

“It’s a very difficult subject for him to discuss.” Bates replied.

“I can imagine.” His lordship acknowledged. “But it’s not as if we didn’t all know. About Barrow.”

“That’s what I said to Mrs. Hughes.”

Annoyance crossed Lord Grantham’s face as Bates helped him into his waistcoat. “I mean, if I’d shouted blue murder every time someone tried to kiss me at Eton, I’d have gone hoarse in a month. What a tiresome fellow.”

Bates stifled a smile as he held out his lordship’s jacket. “It’s not the boy’s fault, m’lord. He’s been whipped up, told if he doesn’t see it through we’ll all suspect him of batting for the same team.”

“Crikey. But who’d do that? Who’s got it in for Barrow?” His lordship slid his arms into the offered jacket.

“Miss O’Brien.”

“O’Brien?” Lord Grantham turned from the mirror in surprise. “I thought they were as thick as thieves.”

“Not now, m’lord.” Bates said with emphasis. As Bates brushed his lordship’s jacket, they considered the situation together in silence. Watching his lordship carefully, he saw his expression became one of resolve. Satisfied, Bates knew he was right to have become involved. After seeing Lord Grantham out, he headed for Thomas’ room.

~

Thomas sat wilted on his neatly made bed, listening to Bates’ offer in disbelief. Finally, he said quietly, “Prison’s changed you. There was a time when nothing was too bad for me as far as you were concerned.”

“Prison has changed me.” Bates agreed and waited for more. When Thomas continued to be silent, he added, “You do know Miss O’Brien is behind it.”

“I knew someone was.” Thomas’ voice was barely above a whisper. “Jimmy’d never think of it for himself.”

Thomas’ steadfast defense of the young man who was an instrument in his own destruction made everything click together for Bates. It all made sense now: his red-rimmed eyes, his complete air of defeat and his uncharacteristic inability to pull himself together and fight back. Few things could crush a man into despair. Bates recognized what he was seeing because he bitterly remembered being in the same dark place himself. Contemplating the silly, foolish object of Thomas’ affection, Bates wondered briefly what Thomas saw in him, because clearly it was more than physical attraction. Thomas was in love, and his heart was broken. Now, he was paralyzed.

Aware he could say nothing against Jimmy, Bates continued to hammer on about O’Brien. “Doesn’t it bother you that she’ll get away with it?”

“Not really.”  

“Without a reference, after ten years here? You’ll never work again.” Bates pressed on forcefully. 

“Not in England, but elsewhere, maybe.” Thomas’ speech was slow and quiet, almost as if he was musing to himself. “I’ve a cousin in Bombay, I might go there. I like the sun.”

“There must be something you know about Miss O’Brien that you can use against her.” Now that Bates understood the depth of the situation, he struggled for anything to shake Thomas out of his fog.

“You’ve heard of the phrase, ‘To know when you’re beaten?’” Thomas finally looked up, but he was the picture of resignation. “Well, I’m beaten, Mr. Bates. I am well and truly beaten.”

“Then give me the weapon and I’ll do the work.” Bates’ frustrated indignation was impossible to contain. “What can I say that will make her change her mind?”

Unexpectedly, a memory from the past flitted up into Thomas’ consciousness. It was a broken bar of soap, on the floor below her ladyship’s bathtub where it had been furtively moved by O’Brien’s shoe. With dawning hope, Thomas looked up at Bates.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**September 1920.**

Jimmy couldn’t believe what he was hearing from O’Brien, and glared at her across the table in the servant’s hall. He felt confused, manipulated and friendless.

“I’m just saying I think you’ve made your point.” she continued. “To let it go now would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“You said that if I let it go they’d think I was up to the same thing!” he cried angrily. “That I wasn’t a proper man.”

O’Brien struggled to contain Jimmy’s temper and her own dread. Three small words had been burning in her ears ever since Bates had hissed them to her over the guise of tea in the Bateses’ new cottage. If it came out that she was responsible for her ladyship’s miscarriage of Lord Grantham’s unborn son and heir, O’Brien knew she’d be facing a worse fate than Thomas was. So she pressed on.

“If you’d done nothing, yes. But this way, it’ll come across as merciful and not vindictive, don’t you see?”

“I never wanted to push it this far!” Jimmy exploded in fury.

“Then you’ll be glad to stop it.” O’Brien pushed back.

“You’re sure I won’t be made to look a fool?” Jimmy pounded his index finger on the table and glowered at her threateningly.

“Far from it.” she said as calmly as she could. “I think they’ll hold you higher in their estimation.”

“Ah James, upstairs please.” Carson leaned into the servant’s hall.

“May I have a word with you please Mr. Carson, before we go up?” Jimmy said immediately.

By way of response, Carson waved Jimmy toward his sitting room. With one last roiling glare at O’Brien, Jimmy strode heatedly away with Carson close behind.

O’Brien placed both hands on the table and let out a shaky sigh. She could only hope she had just saved her own neck.

 

~

 

Thomas stood in Mr. Carson’s sitting room and looked around in disbelief. Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson and Mr. Bates all looked back at him, the former with a smile, the latter two with a mixture of resignation and relief.

“Am I hearing this correctly? I’m not only to stay, but I’m to be under butler?” Thomas asked.

“That is how his lordship wants it. And for some reason, James has thought better of his original position and has retracted his threat to go to the police.” Carson noted the small look of triumph that passed over Bates’ face, but chose to ignore it. He’d had enough of this unsavory business.

“Thank you, Mr. Carson.” Thomas said with genuine feeling, then hesitatingly offered his hand. Carson glanced at Mrs. Hughes, who glared at him in warning. Understanding the consequences if he didn’t comply with her wordless command, Carson took Thomas’ hand and shook it.

Thomas then turned to Mr. Bates. “I don’t know what to say.” he said, struggling with conflicting emotions. He was grateful, but loathed being beholden to anyone, least of all someone he considered repellant both personally and professionally.  

“I believe ‘thank you’ is customary.” Bates answered pointedly but offered his hand.

Thomas was repulsed by the smug undertone of Bates’ voice and for a moment wondered if the price of saving his job was too high. He quickly thought better of it and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Bates.”

Mrs. Hughes then followed Thomas out into the servant’s hall, where she watched him deflate into a chair, head in his hands. She took the chair next to him and placed her hand reassuringly on his arm.

“You see? Everything is going to be alright now.” He looked up with tears pricking his eyes and pulled the handkerchief she’d given him out of his pocket. “Thomas,” she said with kind authority. “Now that you’ve been the recipient of such kindness, I expect to see more of you as the purveyor of it as well.”

 

~

 

The day of the annual cricket match between the house and village was bright and sunny, in glorious contrast to the gloom of the last week. Jimmy welcomed the distraction wholeheartedly. He’d always loved to play cricket and reveled in an afternoon free from work. The only cloud in the sky was the continued presence of Thomas. But at least he knew from Alfred that he was only here by his lordship’s request and would be leaving after the game. Perhaps things were finally settled.

But why did Thomas seem so happy? He still had dark purple circles under his eyes but the pallor was gone from his face. Thomas seemed to be truly enjoying himself. And Jimmy had to admit that he played cricket well, very well. Like everything else he did, he managed to display a singular grace on the pitch that no one else could emulate. Thanks to him, the house team was solidly positioned to win. Now he knew why his lordship had wanted Thomas to play. Jimmy found himself watching with curiosity as his lordship warmly shook Thomas’ hand and complimented his performance. When Thomas then caught Jimmy’s eye, Jimmy flushed, turned away abruptly and moved in toward the tents.

Jimmy had just settled in with a cup of tea when he was surprised to hear his lordship address him.

“James, you put up a very good show out there. Well done.”

Hastily Jimmy rose to his feet and nodded to Lord Grantham and Carson, who stood next to him. “Thank you, m’lord.”

“As a matter of fact, I wanted to thank you for your generosity with Barrow.” Lord Grantham continued. “Letting him stay on shows a real largeness of spirit.”

“Stay on?” Jimmy looked at the two of them with surprise. “Mr. Barrow’s staying on?”

“As under butler. I was given the impression you’d allowed it.” Lord Grantham glanced at Carson, who carefully avoided his eye.

“I allowed him to have a decent reference for when he left.” Jimmy clarified resentfully.

“But you won’t mind too much, will you?” Lord Grantham continued smoothly with feigned casualness. “Oh and by the way, congratulations on your appointment as first footman.”

“What?” Carson suddenly realized James wasn’t the only one being skillfully managed by his lordship.

Jimmy’s face lit up in understanding. “Thank you m’lord. Very much.” he said brightly. Accepting the deal, he couldn’t resist smirking in triumph at Carson.  

Satisfied, Lord Grantham raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Carson as he turned away. Carson rolled his eyes then shook his head in resignation.

Thomas watched the exchange from the corner of his eye, but was too far away to overhear. As he started to wonder if his nightmare was really over, he noticed two men in dark suits approach his lordship and Carson.

Fear crept over Thomas as he realized it was the police. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he carefully stepped backward a few paces until he was hidden behind the tent. He watched nervously as his lordship walked away from the men, then returned with Alfred. Simultaneously, Jimmy sat at the table in the tent, also watching with concern. Neither man knew they were mere feet apart, separated only by the striped wall of the tent. Thomas fidgeted with his lighter and Jimmy chewed on his fingernails as the minutes ticked by. Then both men let out sighs of relief as the policemen walked away. It was finally over.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**May 1924.**

“Isobel,” Cora said over the clinking of silverware at dinner, “How is Mr. Barrow getting on?”

Isobel put down her soup spoon. “He is still quite ill, but I’m pleased to report that with Jimmy’s care he seems to be showing some early signs of improvement.”

“Jimmy?!” Edith looked up in surprise. “Do you mean James, the former footman? He is caring for Mr. Barrow?”

Cora turned with placidity to her middle daughter, but used a tone that suggested caution. “I understand Mrs. Hughes telegrammed James when Mr. Barrow first took ill, given that they had become good friends.”

“Had they?” Edith continued obliviously. “I’m surprised, given all that business a few years ago.”

A gentle but nervous laugh escaped Cora and she glanced quickly at her mother in law, who was following the exchange keenly. “Oh really, Edith. That is water under the bridge.”

Lady Mary snickered into her napkin and exchanged a knowing glance with Tom Branson, who was also struggling to hide his amusement at the turn in conversation.

“But that Jimmy fellow and the other one? Alfred?” Edith said. “If I’m not mistaken --”

“That would be the day…” Mary added to Tom, who suppressed a smile.

Edith shot Mary a look of annoyance and bashed on. “If I’m not mistaken, they were ready to have Barrow hauled off by the police.”

The dowager countess coughed. “Really, I think we’ve reached a new low in dinner conversation.” She glanced at Carson and saw him awkwardly shifting in place.

Lord Grantham cut in authoritatively. “Mr. Barrow has worked for us for over 14 years and he is ill. Whatever his past transgressions, he has served our family well, and we take care of our own. We did so for Mrs. Patmore and for William, and we will continue to do so for him.”

“Well I’m not disputing that.” Edith replied.

“And like Mama said, they had become good friends before James left.” Mary informed her. In response to Branson looking at her quizzically, Mary leaned toward him and said confidentially, “Anna keeps me informed.”

“Had they? When did that come about? I’m just surprised that --” Edith started again.

“We should all be so lucky to be looked after by a friend.” The dowager cut in, emphasizing the word in voice and manner. “And in this age of loose morals --” she eyed Edith and Mary, the latter of whom had stopped smiling, “only he who is without sin should cast the first stone.” The dowager looked imperiously around the room for a challenger. All eyes were either downcast or were, as with Robert and Isobel, shining in approval.

“Now I expect that will be the last of that, upstairs and downstairs?” the Dowager concluded by looking pointedly at Carson.

“Very good, m’lady.” Carson replied.  

Later, as Isobel and Violet made their exit toward the shared car, Isobel offered, “That was a very good thing that you did in there.”

Violet turned to her cousin, unsmiling but with a knowing look. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” she said pointedly. As she turned away, Isobel smiled at her retreating figure.

~

Later that evening, Carson relayed the family’s dinnertime conversation to Mrs. Hughes as he poured her a glass of sherry in his sitting room.

“Well, I suppose it was going to be a topic of conversation at some point.” Mrs. Hughes sighed.

“What was going to be a topic of conversation?” Carson asked suspiciously as he sat down at the small table opposite her.

“Jimmy and Thomas. There are no secrets in this house.”

“And what exactly is the secret?” Carson pressed on, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Mrs. Hughes’ insinuation. “James is here to assist a friend, that is all.”

“Oh really, Mr. Carson.” Mrs. Hughes gently scolded. “I think we can acknowledge the obvious.”

“If you are referring to those unseemly relationships you once previously had occasion to confess your knowledge of, I have to tell you that you are wrong. James most decidedly does not share Mr. Barrow’s… ah, inclinations.” Carson said, choosing his words carefully.

“Is that so?” Mrs. Hughes asked, amused. “And how do you know?”

“Let me inform you of the details surrounding James’ dismissal.” Despite the closed door, Carson leaned toward Mrs. Hughes and whispered the rest.

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything!” Mrs. Hughes exclaimed when he was finished. “Now I’m not saying I approve, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that some men will take any port in a storm!”

Carson coughed on his sherry.  

“And besides,” Mrs. Hughes continued. “It’s obvious Lady Anstruther came here for him. Of course he had to be sacked for such a deplorable lack of discretion, but let’s be honest. How else was he to get rid of her?”

“Once again, I can hardly believe we are having this conversation.” Carson muttered, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“Oh calm down.” Mrs. Hughes admonished with affection. “If his lordship doesn’t mind, why should you?”

By way of an answer, Carson rolled his eyes and finished his sherry in one gulp.


	14. Chapter 14

**September 1921.**

It had been a lonely, painful year for Thomas, but that was nothing new. He was used to being on the fringes of conversations, the periphery of society. It was life as he knew it. The world rejected him, and he it. His only regret was how he had driven Jimmy away by his monumental miscalculation. In retrospect he realized how he’d been blinded by vain hope and manipulated by the woman he’d once considered his closest friend. Sometimes, and this was exceedingly hard to admit, Thomas wondered if he wasn’t actually as smart as he liked to think he was.

For a year, he and Jimmy had worked alongside one another in strained silence. Each kept a studied distance from the other. When they inadvertently found themselves connected, holding opposite ends of a steamer trunk or walking alongside in step, they would instinctively move apart. But while Jimmy did his best to act oblivious to Thomas, Thomas still allowed himself furtive, hopeful glances in Jimmy’s direction. He was still interested. He still cared.

Thomas knew it was a fool’s hope. But he honestly had nothing better upon which to focus his idle attentions. Despite their massive falling out, not to mention Jimmy’s role in his near ruination, Thomas did not blame him. If anything, in a rather poignant way it reminded Thomas of why he had been drawn to Jimmy in the first place. The younger man was spontaneous and natural. He was comfortable with himself in the world, despite the fact that he, like Thomas, was alone in it. Jimmy had an air of open optimism that Thomas had never known, and he found it both profoundly alluring and completely unobtainable. So Thomas settled in for vicarious appreciation of Jimmy’s joie de vivre and downscaled his expectations to merely being tolerated.

Unlike Thomas, Jimmy tried not to think about the subject and preferred to live lightly in the moment. He had never grown comfortable in Thomas’ presence, precisely because it made his avoidance of self-reflection so difficult. There was simply too much wreckage between them. Jimmy didn’t even like to own that there was anything “between them,” it reminded him of the words Thomas had used on the night of his indiscretion. Initially Jimmy had been blind with fury, but as the weeks passed his anger had been replaced by much more complicated feelings. Humiliation, for one. Thomas had been right about one thing, Jimmy liked to look sure of himself and he was keenly aware that his reputation was suffering for being center stage in a lascivious scandal. But months had passed and Thomas continued to be unfailingly polite and respectful to him despite Jimmy’s overt stonewalling. This forced Jimmy to realize something even more unsettling. He had trusted Thomas, and his sense of violation was keen. Jimmy specialized in swagger, it was very unusual for him to share his troubles and insecurities with anyone. In his difficult first weeks at Downton, Thomas had been one of Jimmy’s only supports, and to have his vulnerability exploited so spectacularly, even if accidentally, seemed impossible for Jimmy to forgive. This was all too much for Jimmy to unpack, so with characteristic immaturity he simply acted like a prat when Thomas was around. Even Alfred, usually so obtuse, finally grew tired of it, and said as much as they talked about the upcoming Thirsk Fair.

“Can you take it easy with Mr. Barrow today?” Alfred asked as they replaced the freshly polished silver in the drawing room. “I don’t mean… crawl all over him, but don’t spoil things.”

Jimmy heard the edge of accusation in Alfred’s voice and hid his bristling temper with a smirk. “You’re a fine one to talk.” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Who rang the police in the first place?” He scowled up into Alfred’s face. Alfred refused to take the bait and kept quiet.

“Oh, sod this.” Jimmy sighed, happy for an excuse to change the subject. “I’m bushed.” He headed over to a delicately embroidered pink armchair and flopped down, kicking his feet luxuriously up on the ottoman.

Alfred looked aghast. “Suppose someone comes in?”

“They’ll find a man sitting in an armchair.” Jimmy stretched his arms out, then appreciatively rubbed the upholstery. “They’ll survive it.”

With a flash of conspiratorial inspiration, Alfred rounded the couch, hesitated, then sat down delicately upon the cushions. Jimmy chuckled appreciatively as Alfred surveyed the room from his new vantage point.

“The funny thing with Mr. Barrow is he won’t hear a bad word about you.” Alfred couldn’t help returning to the subject.

“Why?” Jimmy preferred to avoid the real meaning Alfred implied. “What have I done?”

Alfred didn’t fall for it. “I only meant he won’t let anyone speak against you.”

Jimmy shrugged off their conversation and settled more comfortably into the armchair. Abruptly, the sound of footsteps and jingling keys broke the peace. Alfred shot off the couch as Mrs. Hughes exclaimed, “What on earth is going on in here?”

As she shooed them out of the drawing room, Alfred’s words rang in Jimmy’s ears. He steadfastly felt this entire mess was Thomas’ fault, yet somehow, he was now the one behaving badly. Jimmy had spent the past year being at best insensitive and at worst cruel, whereas Thomas had consistently taken the high road. It was a striking reversal, one that even Alfred perceived and felt compelled to comment upon. Jimmy sighed as he returned to the silver. He wasn’t by nature unkind and the implication unsettled him. Once again, he blamed Thomas.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**September 1921.**

Jimmy glowered at both Alfred and Thomas on the ride to the Thirsk Fair. It was just like Thomas to ruin it by being there, and just like Alfred to ruin it by bringing up Thomas. Jimmy still bristled with indignance that Alfred, of all people, criticized his treatment of the man who had kissed him in his sleep. Jimmy hated to be reminded that Thomas even existed, let alone that they had once been friends, because it forced him to consider his contribution to their complicated situation. Avoidance was easier. So all of Thomas’ polite overtures were rejected. Tentative smiles weren’t acknowledged, assistance was declined, conversation was rebuffed. Jimmy accepted nothing from him, not even a free drink when he bought a round for everyone. Worse, he still seemed unable to resist shirty remarks and insolent looks at Thomas’ expense, an ill-bred and risky habit given that he was his professional inferior. In rare moments, Jimmy sometimes wondered if he’d been too harsh on Thomas this year, but so much time had passed he didn’t know how to stop.

The truth was, his anger at Thomas for his liberty had long since cooled, but he couldn’t seem to find a way to move on. His massive indiscretion notwithstanding, Thomas didn’t seem like such a bad man. In fact, he was the kind of man Jimmy was usually friends with; clever, irreverent and interesting. And Jimmy knew now that O’Brien had played him. But whether she had intended to or not, she had managed to stoke a fear that still dwelled in Jimmy’s breast. As they rode to the fair, Jimmy couldn’t help considering it again. Could Thomas see something in Jimmy that he couldn’t see in himself? Why had he, on his first night at The Abbey, immediately asked Thomas if he could come to him? It wasn’t typical for him to ask for help. Why had he tolerated Thomas’ advances? That was uncharacteristic too. It was obvious in retrospect that Thomas had been testing the waters. It stung to admit that it wasn’t unreasonable for Thomas to hope that Jimmy’s acquiescence was in essence permission. If Thomas thought so, who else did? And herein lay the reason why Jimmy continued to be at best ambivalent and at worst downright rude to Thomas. He was scared that anything less would be another invitation that everyone could appreciate but him.

And so Jimmy stewed grumpily in the wagonette with the rest of the happy staff on the way to the Thirsk Fair. As soon as his feet hit the fairground, he looked around for something to divert him. Before long, he found it. He hurried forward and read the sign:

 

**TUG OF WAR**

**BEAT THE CHAMPIONS**

**CASH PRIZES TO WIN**

 

It was perfect. Athletics, competition and gambling, all in one. He turned excitedly to the men.

“Here's something for us. Alfred? Mr. Branson? Let's give it a go.”

“I don't mind.” Mr. Branson agreed.

“What about you?” Alfred asked Thomas.

Jimmy glanced over at Thomas, whose smoky elegance still clung to him in the paradoxical frivolity of a county fairground. “Isn't it a bit rough for Mr. Barrow?” he scoffed.

“Oh I think I could manage.” Thomas’ voice dripped sardonically. As he moved past Jimmy, Jimmy caught his signature scent of smoky cologne and was uncomfortably reminded of awakening with Thomas’ lips against his. He sourly watched Thomas’ retreating back and pretended not to notice Alfred’s glare.

 

~

 

As it turned out, Thomas was right. He could manage. In fact, he managed very well, as did the rest of the Downton men. Jimmy’s elation over their tug-of-war victory, not to mention the ten quid’s worth of gambling winnings, were exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. _I’m putting all this Barrow business out of my mind_ , he thought as he swaggered over to the beer garden.

Within the hour, he was squiffy. Within two, he was pissed. Within three, he was legless. He vaguely remembered buying rounds for strangers, flirting with girls and buying games for Daisy and Ivy. He had a grand time. At least, he thought he had a grand time. He couldn’t remember much very clearly, except for what happened next.

When his head began spinning, he looked for a quiet place to sit down and collect himself. Staggering under a small bridge nearby, he was accosted by one of the men they had beaten in tug-of-war.

“Where do you think you’re going, m’laddo?” the man said in mock cheerfulness.

“Get out of the way.” Jimmy tried to brush past him, but the man put his hand on Jimmy’s chest and roughly pushed him back.

Jimmy staggered back, then saw another man from the opposing tug-of-war team approach him.

“Take him!” yelled the first man, and the second grabbed his arms from behind.

Suddenly, Thomas appeared. “Let go!” he yelled.

All three men turned to look at Thomas.

“And who’s going to make me?” the first man sneered.

“I am.” Thomas said, and immediately threw a punch. As the attackers staggered, Thomas grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders, spinning him around and away from the men.

“Beat it, Jimmy!” he ordered. As one man grabbed his arms from behind, the other started punching Thomas in the stomach. “Run! Run!” he managed to cry out.

Panic immediately cleared Jimmy’s head. He hesitated a moment, then ran headlong through the crowd, screaming apologies as he shoved people aside. When he saw Dr. Clarkson, he flung himself unceremoniously into the small tent where he was sitting with Mrs. Crawley.

“Doctor! Doctor, you’ve got to come now!” he sputtered.

“What is it?” Dr. Clarkson asked with alarm.

“It’s Thomas -- please!!”

 

~

 

The ride home in the wagonette was one of the most painful experiences of Jimmy’s life. He didn’t know what felt worse, his head, his stomach or his conscience. Every bump in the road was excruciating. The sun was too bright and the wind too warm. Downton seemed to be 20 miles away and the wagonette was spinning more than moving down the road. Fortunately, everyone was focused on Thomas’ beaten body, so no one was paying any attention to him. No one, of course, except for Thomas himself. Jimmy guiltily perceived Thomas kindly watching him through rapidly swelling eyes. When Jimmy finally turned his glassy, bloodshot gaze toward him, Thomas’ bruised lips mouthed the words, “It’s alright, Jimmy.”

Jimmy immediately threw his head over the side of the wagonette and vomited.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**May 1924.**

Jimmy leaned against the wall of the hospital and gazed up at the stars, trying to find some consolation in them. It was a habit he’d gotten into because of Thomas, smoking outside. Thomas preferred getting away from everyone and Jimmy had soon developed a similar appreciation for it. Over their nearly three years of friendship, it had become one of their regular, unspoken daily appointments.

But now Jimmy was alone. Thomas was still unreachable in the mire of illness. Although he occasionally spoke, it was the product of fever and he was still insensible to those around him.  

Jimmy never left the hospital. He’d let go of his room at the Grantham Arms because he was never there. Every day the terrifying spectre of Thomas’ lack of recovery loomed more present, and Jimmy was struggling to quell the rising dread in his soul. In consequence, he couldn’t stand to be away. Smoking outside near Thomas’ window was the closest he ever came to leaving.

Jimmy’s body heard and reacted to Thomas’ cries before his mind even registered them. Dropping his cigarette in the gravel, he bolted down the hall and into the hospital ward, skidding to a stop at Thomas’ side. Thomas was drenched in a cold sweat, writhing and moaning in the bed.

“Thomas! Are you alright? Thomas?” he cried. His hands ran across Thomas’ shoulders and through his hair in a vain attempt to comfort him. He leaned in close and pleaded softly. “Thomas, it’s Jimmy! Talk to me, please.”

“Beat it, Jimmy…” Thomas murmured and gasped for breath. “Run….”

Understanding flashed through Jimmy, followed quickly by shame. The Thirsk Fair. Thomas was having a nightmare about his beating, the beating that was meant for Jimmy.

“Thomas…” he whispered, then again more urgently. “Thomas? It’s Jimmy. I’m here.”

Hearing his own words made him pause. The four years of their history flashed before him like images from a film; Thomas offering his help on Jimmy’s first night at Downton, Thomas in the rocking chair with his eyes closed as he listened to Jimmy play piano, Thomas’ taste lingering on a shared cigarette, Thomas’ arms and scent enveloping him as his hands brought Jimmy to ecstasy. And Thomas pale and terrified after Jimmy threw him out of his room, Thomas wounded and silent in the days after he was sacked, Thomas shunned and friendless for the next year, Thomas bruised and bloody after the fair, and Thomas hiding his loneliness as Jimmy accepted his love but did not give any in return. And finally, Thomas unable to meet his eyes as they said goodbye.

The horrible truth punched Jimmy in the face. He had never been there for Thomas. The weight of everything he had never said, never done and never given crashed on him without restraint and forced him mercilessly to the floor. Sobs racked his body and he crumpled over in overwhelming regret and fear. He was losing Thomas, losing him at the very moment he was realizing what it was he could have had. And he might never get the chance to make it right.

He reached up blindly and found Thomas’ hand dangling over the bedside. Holding it in both of his own, Jimmy laid his head against it and cried like he hadn’t since his mother died. He had never felt so alone and so frightened, and he knew he couldn’t bear another loss of someone he loved.

 _Love._ The word latched onto him and wouldn’t let go. What was love? Jimmy had no idea. But resolve suddenly steeled him. He pulled himself up out of his anguish and off of the floor. Sitting carefully next to Thomas on the bed, he spoke again, but now his voice was soft and steady.

“I’m finally here for you.” he whispered, caressing Thomas tenderly. “And I will be here when you wake up.”  

 


	17. Chapter 17

**September 1921.**

It took two days for Jimmy’s hangover to clear properly, but his guilt remained. It sat heavily in his stomach like a stone, weighing him down no matter what he did. When the flurry of activity at Lady Mary’s early labor provided an opportunity to slip away, Jimmy went upstairs to the servants’ quarters.

He made his way nervously down the hall, clutching both hands into fists. A hallboy passed  him and Jimmy faltered, lingering awkwardly. Once he was alone, he faced Mr. Barrow’s door, closed his eyes and took a deep breath to galvanize his courage. A year of unspoken tension was on the other side of the door. He clenched his jaw, made up his mind, and knocked. He didn’t wait for an answer, afraid his resolve would leave him. Opening the door, he looked warily at the broken man sitting on the bed.

Thomas lowered his newspaper in surprise and a faint smile toyed with his lips. “What are you doing up here?”

Uncomfortable meeting Thomas’ gaze, Jimmy focused on the corner of Thomas’ bed. He walked slowly into the room, keeping the door safely open and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t too much harm done.”

Thomas folded the newspaper and placed it on his bedside table, then awkwardly gestured to his face. “Well, there was enough harm done.” He tried to laugh but the pain in his bruised ribs made it come out more like a gasp. Abandoning the effort, his eyes fell to his lap where he realized he was wringing his hands.

Jimmy continued speaking to the floor. “You were brave, Mr. Barrow.” Thomas looked up at Jimmy, surprised at the kindness in his voice. It had been a year since he’d heard it directed at him. Jimmy glanced up briefly, but his shame reared afresh at the sight of Thomas’ beaten body and he looked back down. “Very brave.” he added sincerely.

A moment passed in silence, and Jimmy finally gave in to honesty. “I feel badly. I shouldn’t have run off.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “No, you should have. Otherwise what was I bloody doing it for?” He groaned slightly as he painfully repositioned himself on the bed.  

Jimmy hesitated, trying to say the words. “Were... were you following me?” He finally looked up at Thomas and managed to meet his eyes.

Thomas looked at Jimmy, unsure of what to say. Following Jimmy’s lead, he finally settled upon the truth. “I like to keep an eye out,” he admitted. “I could see you’d had a bit to drink, and so…” he trailed off uncertainly, then decided the damage was already done. He looked back at Jimmy. “Yes. Yes, I did follow you.”

Jimmy kept looking at him. “Why?” he asked, more tersely than he’d intended.

Annoyance prickled Thomas. “You know why.” he answered sourly. _Why do you have to rub my nose in it_ , Thomas continued to himself.

The words settled on Jimmy, forcing acknowledgement. He had focused so much on his own indignant sense of victimization that he had neglected to fully appreciate how tirelessly Thomas had spent the last year trying to make amends. It made sense now, how Thomas had owned the entire responsibility for the scandal a year ago, how Alfred said he constantly defended him, how he’d continued to protect and look after him, despite Jimmy’s callousness, right up to this very moment, when he still wouldn’t reveal the circumstances of the beating. In the face of Thomas’ honest words and bruised body, there was no way for Jimmy to deny the validity of the other man’s feelings. The realization filled him with strange and powerful emotions. He was touched, alarmed and doubly ashamed of himself, not just for his behavior at the fair but for all the ways he’d been cruel to Thomas over the last year. He realized he had been acting like a child. Thomas had been acting like a man.

He looked around, found a small wooden chair, placed it a safe distance from Thomas’ bed and sat down. Rubbing his hands on his thighs, he blew a shaky breath out and considered his approach. He finally decided to return the respect he’d been shown, and looked at Thomas directly.

“I can never give you what you want.” he said simply.

“I understand that, I do.” Thomas said, then looked up into Jimmy’s conflicted countenance.  Despite the pain of a definitive rejection, it was a relief to be able to talk about it at last. “And I don’t ask for it. But I’d like it if we could be friends.”

Jimmy was again moved by Thomas’ honesty and suddenly felt very young and foolish. _Whatever he is,_ Jimmy realized, _he’s more of a man than I am._ Jimmy nodded his head at the thought, then smiled at Thomas. He felt immense relief that their year-long ordeal might be over, and was grateful to Thomas for bringing it about. “Right you are, Mr. Barrow.” Jimmy said sincerely. “If that’s all, I think I could manage that.”

“Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you.” Thomas returned his smile as the tension between them wafted out the open door.

“Make yourself useful or something, read the paper.” Thomas teased. As he offered him the newspaper, Jimmy reached over without hesitation and accepted it.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**1921-1922.**

Once Jimmy had let go of his internal struggles and accepted Thomas’ offer of friendship, he did so unreservedly. Without preamble Thomas was thrust into a warmth of camaraderie unlike any he’d ever experienced, not even during the war. He didn't know when he'd ever had so much fun. Jimmy was a guinea a minute. His appetite for mischief was almost as boundless as his energy. He quickly became both a source and a repository for all the household gossip Thomas loved, and they each enjoyed stirring the pot for their own idle entertainment. Alfred, who was a frequent target, watched Thomas and Jimmy’s growing friendship and ruefully wondered if he’d created a monster.

In the year since the Thirsk Fair they’d become nearly inseparable. They shared the paper every morning and cigarettes every night. Sometimes Jimmy played the piano while Thomas sat by him on the bench or lounged in the rocker by the fire. On afternoons off they'd swing the cricket bat or kick around the football. If the weather was poor they’d head out together for pints in the pub or rounds of poker with chaps from the village. They split all their spoils, whether it was Jimmy’s winnings or Thomas’ blagged bottles of wine. Jimmy had once boasted he could always get money, and it wasn't false pride. He was a fantastic poker player and almost invariably left the table with a wad of cash that he blew as quickly as he’d earned it. More than once Jimmy wound up in the cross-hairs of some unhappy player’s anger. If his youthful charm or drunken belligerence didn’t diffuse the situation, then Thomas’ tall, threatening figure and tersely hissed intimidation did.   

Jimmy stumbled along beside Thomas one evening after another such encounter with an unlucky poker player.

“Thanks for that Thomas, you’re a real brick.” Jimmy hiccuped gamely. “Want to go to the Grantham Arms for a nightcap?”

Thomas laughed incredulously. “Noooo. And neither do you, young James Kent. I think you’ve reached your limit for tonight.”

“Oh c’mon, old man.” Jimmy pouted playfully and yanked on Thomas’ arm. “You know, sometimes I forget you’re so much older than me.”

“I don’t.” Thomas said flatly, but he was smiling. “And your squiffy arse is going home.”

“Tosser.” Jimmy grinned and elbowed Thomas in his side.

“Poof.” Thomas returned good-naturedly and smacked Jimmy with his hat.

They had their squabbles as well but they never lasted long. Jimmy’s memory seemed as short as his temper. In contrast, Thomas carried a mental register of everything Jimmy had ever said or done, but he didn’t hold grudges. He never forgot that he’d almost lost Jimmy forever, and the cost of his friendship was tolerating his youthful foibles and his own permanently simmering longing. It was a price Thomas was willing to pay, and he felt it a bargain.

Which was not to say that Jimmy always made it easy. Late one night in the summer of 1922, Thomas heard a soft knock at his door as he was undressing for bed. Given that he was shirtless, he opened it only a crack. However Jimmy had other ideas. He quickly pushed his way into Thomas’ room and closed the door softly behind him.

“Make yourself at home!” Thomas said indignantly, not because he was unhappy to see Jimmy but because he was keenly aware of his own state of undress.

Jimmy didn’t seem to mind. “Sorry,” he giggled. “But I didn’t want anyone to see this!” He took out a bottle of whiskey from under his arm and waved it gleefully in the air.

“Jimmy…” Thomas scolded him affectionately as he pulled on a shirt. “Have you been taking after old Uncle Thomas again?”

“I didn’t nick it if that’s what you mean.” Jimmy grinned. “It were a thank you gift from Lady Rose, after that business in the dance hall in York. Not to mention my keeping mum about her prancing around in a maid’s uniform with some bloke out in the yard.”

“From Lady Rose, did you say?” Thomas tried to match Jimmy’s playful tone but felt his heart break a bit.

Jimmy shook his head and sat down on the floor. “Nothing’s going to happen there. This bottle of whiskey and being my ‘friend forever’ are the only things that will come of that.”

“Won’t Ivy be relieved.” Thomas knew he was really talking about himself.

“Ivy’s the reason we’re cracking into this tonight.” Jimmy groaned as Thomas sat down on the floor beside him, his back against the bedside table. As they passed the bottle back and forth Jimmy related the story of their date earlier that night, concluding with his failed attempt to get more from her than a kiss. “And that was that. She was off like a shot.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Thomas tried to keep the happiness out of his voice, which was becoming more difficult as the whiskey took hold. “She’ll come around.”

“Speaking of come around,” Jimmy said, “Have you gotten any useful tidbits out of Miss Baxter yet?”

“Now there’s a tough nut to crack. But I’ll crack it.” Thomas said grimly.

“Women.” Jimmy yawned, got up off the floor and stretched out on his stomach on Thomas’ bed. “I say, Thomas. You may have it all sorted out.”

“Meaning?”   

“I’d wager blokes are a lot easier to deal with than skirts.” Jimmy’s eyes closed as he settled comfortably into whiskey-infused drowsiness.

 _Hardly_ , Thomas thought, but stole the opportunity to admire Jimmy. He’d pictured him on his bed a thousand times. But the images in his dreams didn’t compare, because this moment was real. Jimmy was here, now. Thomas sat unmoving on the floor, drinking the moment in, hardly daring to breathe.

“Ah, I’m knackered.” Jimmy yawned again. Eyes still closed, he waved his arm blindly until his hand landed on Thomas’ thigh. Giving it a squeeze, he mumbled, “Can I stay in here tonight?”

“What?” Thomas squeaked, then cleared his throat and continued in a deeper voice. “Alfred’s gone, you’ve got the whole room to yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jimmy said, his hand sliding further up Thomas’ thigh in his near-slumber. It now rested precariously close to Thomas’ growing arousal.

“Why?” Thomas whispered.

“Rather be here.” Jimmy murmured sleepily.

As Thomas considered, Jimmy softly began to snore. Thomas studied Jimmy, then gently moved his hand off his thigh. Jimmy’s arm swung loosely over the edge of the bed, but he did not awaken. Rubbing his forehead, Thomas slowly got to his feet. As he watched Jimmy sleeping peacefully on his bed, he tried to memorize every detail. Moving quietly, he took the blanket from the foot of the bed and gently tucked it around Jimmy. Then he pulled an extra quilt off the shelf, arranged it on the floor and settled down. After one last lingering look, he reached up and turned out the light.

~

A few days later Jimmy sat sulking at the table in the boot room. He watched Thomas bustle about, making preparations for his unexpected journey to America with Lord Grantham.

“I envy you.” Jimmy confessed.

“Well I’m not sorry, I can say that.” Thomas grinned.

“How do you know you’ll get a ship?” Jimmy asked, faintly hoping they wouldn’t.

“There’s always empty cabins.” Thomas said as he carefully placed a pair of shoes into a canvas shoe bag. “Sure we’ll find something.”

“Oh, I wish it were me…” Jimmy lamented. _Us_ , Jimmy added to himself, his mind brimming with images of all the adventures they could have in America.

“Wouldn’t you miss Ivy?”

“Nothing’s going to come of that. It were a waste of money and effort.”

“I’m sure something’s just around the corner.”

“Well I wish it’d get a move on, or I might do something stupid.” Jimmy confessed.

“Well when I get back, I want to find you happy and healthy...” Thomas said truthfully, then carefully added a lie. “...and courting a girl from the village.”

Jimmy smiled sweetly at Thomas, then looked down at his hands as a blush bloomed across his cheeks.  

Ignoring the skipping beats of his heart, Thomas said breezily, “Now come on, let’s go up. You can wish me luck.”

Out in the drive, Jimmy helped Thomas load the last of the luggage onto the back of the car. Jimmy held open the door for Lord Grantham and watched as Thomas walked around the back of the car and got in next to the driver. Their eyes met briefly. Jimmy managed a small smile, but Thomas, whose face had reverted to the unreadable mask he often wore before the family, did not return it. However, Jimmy did register the small twinkle of warmth in Thomas’ gray eyes, and knew that it was solely meant for him.  

 


	19. Chapter 19

**May 1924.**

Jimmy sat in the little metal chair by the hospital bed, exhausted but unwilling to leave. It was late and the only light came from a small bedside lamp nearby. He stared at Thomas where he lay in feverish ignorance of Jimmy’s presence. Dr. Clarkson hadn’t said so, but Jimmy could tell he was worried. It had been five days. No one had to tell Jimmy that the longer his delirium lasted, the worse it looked for Thomas.

The shadows cast by the lamp accentuated the dark circles under Thomas’ eyes, but even gripped by illness, it was an elegant face. Historically Jimmy had always felt he could never look directly at Thomas for too long, for multiple reasons. First, it felt disrespectful, given how intensely private the man was. Second, and Jimmy admitted to himself that this was the more significant reason, he had worried at the time that he might communicate something to Thomas that he himself didn’t understand. It was like that with Thomas, he seemed to perceive the truth of matters. Most of the time, anyway. The obvious exception to that rule was what Jimmy historically told himself was the spectacular misunderstanding that led Thomas into his bedroom on the night in 1920 that had changed everything.

In truth Jimmy had often wondered if Thomas perhaps saw something in him that he himself didn’t see. Thomas had always been better at reading people than Jimmy. When they were friends, it was a source of entertainment. When they weren’t, it was a source of unease. In retrospect, Jimmy now possessed enough self-awareness to know that this was why he was heartless and vindictive to Thomas over the year following the offence against him. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that everything changed after the Thirsk Fair. The friendship Jimmy initially offered out of guilt and shame became genuine almost overnight. It turned out that Thomas was a fantastically fun and faithful friend. And of course, he made it easy for Jimmy. He was respectful, conscientious and carefully guarded in his mannerisms. He allowed Jimmy to set the pace, and only offered what he knew Jimmy would accept.

Now Jimmy studied Thomas with impunity. His lush black hair was sweaty and splayed across the pillow. _He’d hate that_ , Jimmy thought ruefully, and he reached for a comb to tidy it. Then Jimmy’s eyes traveled down to Thomas’ face. He remembered the first time it occurred to him that Thomas was a good looking man. It was not long after the Thirsk Fair. Since then, Jimmy had grown accustomed to quietly and furtively noting the creamy pallor of Thomas’ skin, to studying the course of his neck down inside his collar. He’d memorized Thomas’ high arched brows, his sharp cheekbones, his white teeth that flashed in genuine smiles that generally were only bestowed on Jimmy. Yes, over card games, newspapers passed back and forth, meals in the servants’ hall or myriad other shared tasks upstairs, Jimmy had found ample opportunity to get to know Thomas’ face.

Jimmy couldn’t believe how much it had changed in just a few months. Thomas’ complexion was both sapped with illness and flushed with fever. He lay on his side facing Jimmy, his legs pulled up in a knot under the blankets. Thomas’ eyes moved under his blue lids, his breath uneven, his thready pulse quivering in his neck from some kind of restless dream. Jimmy leaned across and gently pulled the blankets up over Thomas’ shoulders and carefully tucked them around his neck. As he did so, he realized he’d inadvertently exposed Thomas’ hands when he’d pulled up the sheet. Jimmy reached over, took both of Thomas’ hands in his own, and remembered an earlier time, the first time he’d linked hands with Thomas.   


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature rating earned in this and subsequent chapters.

**Late Summer 1922.**

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I thought you liked the pictures. You should come along and enjoy yourself.” Daisy said, flanked by most of the downstairs staff. Mr. Levinson had just left for America with Ivy in tow, and her ladyship had treated the servants to a night off. Even Carson and Mrs. Hughes were going, since Thomas had volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on the house.  

“Nah, thanks though.” Jimmy replied. “I’m going to take advantage of some peace and quiet here while you lot are gone.”

Daisy smiled at his teasing. “Alright then. But don’t say we didn’t ask. Enjoy your night, and have some of the tea and biscuits we left for you.”

Jimmy smiled back, then sighed with relief as the door closed behind them. He walked into the servant’s hall and helped himself to the tea on the table.

“Don’t you want to go with the others?” Thomas asked. He’d been lounging in the rocker, listening with interest to their conversation at the door. “It’s a nice chance to get out for a bit.”

“No.” Jimmy shook his head, handing Thomas a cup of tea. He knew exactly how he took it, one and a half teaspoons of milk added before the tea and no sugar. Thomas rose from the rocker and moved to the chair next to Jimmy at the table. Their interactions were so natural; sometimes Jimmy couldn’t believe there was a time when he and Thomas weren’t friends. They were always together now. Mrs. Hughes called them thick as thieves, and Ivy had once complained that Jimmy preferred Thomas’ company to hers. Jimmy knew she was right, a realization he had made while Thomas was in America. Now that he was back, it was as if the world had color in it again.

“I’d rather stay here doing nothing with you than go anywhere with them. Some of them are alright, but most of them are nutters.” Jimmy helped himself to a drag off Thomas’ cigarette, then passed it back and sat down next to him. He reached up and removed his tie, tossing it absentmindedly onto the table. “The house sounds like a chicken coop when they’re all here clucking and pecking at each other. Sometimes I think you’re the only person on earth I can really stand to be around, Thomas.”

Thomas colored slightly, then said, “Come now, Jimmy. You’re not known for poetic license.”

“I’m serious.” Jimmy exclaimed. “You’re a good friend and I’m not too proud to say it. We’ve been through a lot in the last two years and I think we’ve come out the better for it.”

Thomas watched as Jimmy unbuttoned his waistcoat, slid it off and tossed it onto the table next to his tie. As his hands reached up to unfasten the top two buttons of his shirt, Thomas fought the urge to reach out and do it himself. Jimmy closed his eyes with a sigh and slowly rolled his head in a circle, stretching his neck. “Ah.. that’s better.”

Thomas stared uncontrollably at Jimmy’s exposed neck and felt himself flush. Trying to contain his emotions, he changed the subject. “So how was it here while I was in America?”

“I told you, not very interesting and not very modern.” Jimmy sighed. The truth was, he was coming to realize that Thomas seemed to be the only thing at Downton that was interesting and modern.

“You didn’t find yourself a nice village girl to court?” Thomas asked.

“There are plenty of nice girls.” Jimmy frowned. “I’m sure they deserve better than the likes of me.”

“I didn’t know your intentions were so noble.” Thomas said with a note of surprise. “I thought you were just looking for a bit of fluff.”

“Oh, I am.” Jimmy laughed, his blue eyes sparkling mischieviously. Thomas felt his stomach lurch with desire. Jimmy always looked dishy when he smiled, especially when his affectionate gaze was directed at him. Jimmy continued on, oblivious. “But it never works out, not with nice girls anyway. Too much work, too little payoff. That’s why me usual thing is married ladies. At Lady Anstruther’s there were loads of them, I had me pick. At least until she got mental and stopped bringing in competition.”

Jimmy watched the smoke curl from Thomas’ lips as he chuckled and wondered how he always managed to look graceful. Idly noting the color in his high cheekbones, Jimmy’s eyes lingered on Thomas as he continued his lament. “But nothing happens at Downton. It’s been ages since I felt anything but me own hand, and I’m just gagging for it. It’s a frustrating business, I tell you.”

Thomas kept smoking placidly. Presently, he added in even tones, “You don’t have to tell me.”

Realizing his mistake, Jimmy suddenly looked alarmed. “Blimey. I’m being a prat again, aren’t I? Sometimes I forget that...well, you know.” He reached across and laid his hand on Thomas’ arm. “I’m sorry. I mean it.”

When Thomas said nothing, Jimmy flushed and withdrew his hand. Over the last year, their friendship had developed a playful physicality, born of trust on both sides. Thomas cherished the contact but kept his emotions in check and was very careful to follow Jimmy’s lead. Jimmy frequently sat on the floor in Thomas’ room idly playing solitaire, his back against Thomas’ legs while he read in the chair. Thomas occasionally shared the piano bench with Jimmy while he played, close enough for their thighs to touch and their scents to mingle. Sometimes Jimmy would link arms with him when they walked (usually when he was drunk, claiming Thomas steadied him). Jimmy was almost always the instigator and Thomas never seemed to mind. But this time, Thomas’ stiff posture and averted eyes made him look pained and Jimmy worried he had offended his friend. They sat in awkward silence, Thomas studying the tip of his burning cigarette, Jimmy studying his own shoes. After a few moments, Thomas added quietly, “Doesn’t have to be, you know. Not for you, anyway.”

Jimmy snorted. “What do you mean? You’ve got a few married ladies tucked up in the gallery somewhere who are willing to service me for a change?”

“No. Not ladies. Not anyone.” Thomas answered patiently, then turned to look at Jimmy. “Just me.”

Jimmy was speechless. The blush that had started on his cheeks stole down his neck, in sharp contrast to the stiff white of his shirt collar. _Did Thomas really just ---_

Reading Jimmy’s mind, Thomas gently raised his hand, the cigarette resting delicately between two fingers. “Relax. I’m not saying what you think I’m saying. I’m just offering…” he glanced meaningfully at his own hand, “...a service. That’s all. Nothing implied, and no reciprocation necessary.”

Jimmy continued to stare. Thomas continued to smoke. They regarded each other for a few minutes. Jimmy slowly realized he was physically responding to Thomas’ offer. His body was expressing its desires before his mind had been made up. He’d never felt more betrayed by his own physicality, and felt himself flush scarlet as he grew painfully hard. Thomas’ eyes rarely missed anything, and they didn’t miss either of these changes in Jimmy’s body. As a small smile played around Thomas’ smoky lips, Jimmy wanted to die.

With a kindness Thomas showed no one but Jimmy, he said nothing, but his gray eyes softened with gentle affection. Thomas turned away to allow Jimmy to try to change position in a vain and unsuccessful attempt to preserve some modesty. “It’s alright, Jimmy. Forget about it. I didn’t mean to make you… uncomfortable. Consider it a standing offer, or consider it unsaid. Whichever you prefer.” Thomas stood up and straightened his jacket. “I’ll say goodnight then,” he breathed quietly, stubbed out his cigarette and walked out of the room.

~

Thomas stood in his room, hands painfully gripping his dressing table, staring intently at his own reflection in the glass. He had stripped down to his undershirt but still wore the pants of his livery, the braces hanging down the sides. The glove he wore daily on his left hand sat discarded on the bedside table. He was awash in excitement and horror. What had he just done? Something between him and Jimmy had palpably changed. After everything they’d been through, how close Thomas had come to not only losing Jimmy and his job but also his legal freedom, how could he be so stupid? Terror gripped his chest in a vice. Either Jimmy was coming closer to him, or he was gone forever in the other direction. The thought of their friendship ending filled Thomas with panic, and he impulsively started toward the door with no thought but to apologize and beg for Jimmy to forget everything he’d said.

The moment Thomas’ hand touched the knob there was a quiet knock on the door, and Thomas almost jumped out of his skin. Trying and failing to control his voice, he quavered, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” answered Jimmy softly.

Thomas didn’t know whether to rejoice or despair. He only knew he couldn’t stand not knowing how this was going to end. With a shaking hand, he slowly opened the door.

Jimmy stood there looking wrecked, hands clasped in front of him, staring at his feet. Without looking up, he said quietly, “May I come in, Mr. Barrow?”

 _Mr. Barrow,_ thought Thomas. _Oh God, I’m done for._ He wordlessly stood back as Jimmy walked in. Thomas silently closed the door, then turned to face what he was sure was his doom.

Jimmy kept his eyes fervently downcast. Thomas stared freely at Jimmy’s face, trying to read his fate. Neither of them spoke. It was such a change from their loquacious friendship that Thomas felt certain he was once again facing his own ruination.

Slowly, Jimmy unclasped his hands from in front of his groin and dropped them to his sides. Thomas started with the recognition that Jimmy was still obviously and undeniably aroused. Desire screamed in Thomas’ breast but he remained frozen in place, terrified to move, lest he would seal his fate and be lost to the hard labor camps for a decade.

Jimmy raised his eyes, which had never shone a more delicate blue. His brows were raised questioningly and his full lips almost quivered. He was the image of vulnerability. Thomas met his gaze and felt his heart transform into a puddle of warm water.

“Thomas,” Jimmy breathed, then stopped, clearly at a loss for words. He looked helplessly around the room, as though he’d find the words on the neatly arranged dressing table or the tiny bookshelf. Finally, he looked back to Thomas, and whispered simply, “Please.”

Thomas sharply sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, struggling against the violent urge to crash into Jimmy, haul him into his arms and crush Jimmy’s lips with his own. With herculean effort, he slowly stepped forward and closed the distance between them. He was close enough to be enveloped in Jimmy’s signature scent of youthful masculinity, and Thomas longed to see how Jimmy’s skin tasted. He was seized by the thought of running his tongue slowly up Jimmy’s neck but blinked hard to maintain control. He focused steadily on Jimmy’s now downturned face, carefully reached out and took each of Jimmy’s hands in his own. They stood, mirror images, arms at sides, hands clasped, facing each other. Jimmy’s breathing slowed perceptibly, and he risked peeking up into Thomas’ face. Something there filled Jimmy with a sense of trust, and he managed to smile at Thomas.

Thomas smiled back, almost giddy with happiness. “It’s alright.” he breathed, lower than a whisper, and heard Jimmy sigh with relief. “I know, Jimmy. I understand, and it’s alright.”

“Any chance you’ve got some whiskey tucked away in here?” Jimmy chuckled. “I could use a drink.”

“No.” Thomas replied seriously. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you. You’re doing this sober or not at all.”

Jimmy’s smile faded, but he looked warmly at Thomas and nodded in agreement. His fingers played lightly against Thomas’ hands, making them tingle. Then he leaned his forehead against Thomas’ shoulder and sighed again. Thomas turned his face into Jimmy’s hair, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Don’t worry, Thomas,” Jimmy’s soft voice drifted up plaintively. “I trust you. I want to do this. With you.”

Releasing Jimmy’s hands, Thomas slid his up to Jimmy’s waist, then glided them across Jimmy’s belt. When his fingers reached Jimmy’s belt buckle, Jimmy’s breath hitched in his throat and he jumped. Before Jimmy could stop them, his hands came up instinctively and blocked Thomas, then hovered uncertainly. Thomas read Jimmy’s hesitation, and watched as Jimmy studied Thomas’ chest, arms and hands.

Understanding dawned in Thomas’ mind. _I’m too masculine,_ he thought. _It’s too strange for him_. Thomas reached over and dimmed the lamp. Then slowly, he turned Jimmy 180 degrees so he was facing away from him, and gently pulled Jimmy back into his arms. Jimmy leaned back slightly and willed himself to take a deep breath, his arms dropping again at his sides. Thomas wrapped his arms around Jimmy’s waist and held him there, rocking slightly. When he felt Jimmy relax against him, Thomas slid his hands over and unfastened Jimmy’s belt buckle. To Thomas’ shock, Jimmy reached up and pulled his shirt tails up and out of his pants, offering better access to Thomas. Thomas slid his left hand up Jimmy’s chest, and thrilled to feel Jimmy shudder against him. His right hand slid down over Jimmy’s pants and caressed the contours beneath. It was what he’d always wanted to do. Jimmy groaned as Thomas alternated moving his hand and moving the rough fabric over Jimmy’s manhood. Jimmy began rocking his hips against Thomas right hand, and gasped as the fingers on Thomas’ left hand gently brushed over his nipples. Jimmy reached up to his waist and hurriedly tugged his pants down, barely noticing as they crumpled around his ankles. He leaned back deeper into their embrace as Thomas reached down with both hands. His dream was coming true, and he unhesitatingly caressed all of Jimmy’s most sensitive flesh with confident expertise. Jimmy threw his head further back against Thomas’ shoulder, eyes clamped shut, gasping and writhing in pleasure. Thomas’ hands explored every part of Jimmy and mercilessly drove him on. Thomas felt he’d never experienced anything more beautiful than Jimmy’s abandon, and he nearly wept with joy to witness it. With a hoarse cry, muffled just in time by turning against Thomas’ neck, Jimmy’s climax rocked his entire body in waves. As he slowly caught his breath, Jimmy realized the bulk of his weight was leaning against Thomas, who held him securely. With surprise, Jimmy also realized he’d never felt more at ease. He turned to look at Thomas, who still had one arm firmly around his waist. He was surprised to see the older man smirking and offering him a flask.

“You held out on me.” Jimmy chuckled breathlessly and accepted the flask. He tipped it back with relief and felt the warm burn of whiskey reassuringly glide down his throat.

“Well you didn’t hold out on me,” Thomas quipped. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

Jimmy laughed and flushed a captivating deep scarlet. Thomas minutely shook his head. Unable to suppress his own grin, he reached for his cigarettes.  

 


	21. Chapter 21

**May 1924**

Miss Baxter walked quietly into the hospital ward, her bag on her shoulder and both hands gripping a heavy basket. It had been six days. She paused for a moment, watching Jimmy as he organized the irrigation supplies at Thomas’ bedside. He looked worn but purposeful. Her face softened, reflecting a growing respect for the young man.

He looked up as she approached and smiled wanly. “I think I’m finally getting the hang of this.” he said, gesturing to the wide array of materials. He turned back to his charge and placed a steady hand on his forehead, then two fingers on his carotid pulse. Jimmy’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on his assessment.

“I brought you some things from the house.” Miss Baxter indicated the basket while she spoke. “There’s an assortment of meat, fruit and cheese, some tea and a few cakes Daisy made for you. The Bateses sent a bottle of sherry. Also, Mrs. Hughes said if you need any laundry done, you can send it back with me.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, all of you.” Jimmy said sincerely. “Let me wash my hands and then we can go and sit down.”

Miss Baxter waited while Jimmy scrubbed his hands in the way Dr. Clarkson had taught him. She noted that he seemed to be moving comfortably in the hospital environment.

“Have you done medical work before, Jimmy?” she asked.

“Oh no,” he chuckled grimly. “Of course, I looked after me mum when she were ill, but it weren’t really medical work, as you say. And I were too young to be of service during the war.”

Jimmy dried his hands, neatly folded the towel and walked back to Miss Baxter where he offered to relieve her of the heavy basket. After studying Thomas for a moment, Jimmy turned, apparently satisfied, and led Miss Baxter out of the ward to a small sitting room located adjacent. “We can sit here but it’s close enough for me to still hear him if he needs me.” Jimmy said by way of explanation.

Jimmy sat and rubbed his neck wearily as Miss Baxter arranged a small lunch for him. When he offered to share the tea, she accepted and poured cups for them both.

“Milk and sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

“Where are you staying, Jimmy? The Grantham Arms?” she asked as she passed him a cup of tea.

“I was at first.” Jimmy accepted the tea gratefully. “But I was here so much, Dr. Clarkson offered to let me bunk in the old staff quarters left over from the war. They’re vacant now, and certainly not too good for me. I’m very grateful, actually. The money's running a little thin.” Jimmy took a sip of tea and sighed appreciatively. “Ah, that’s nectar. Please thank Mrs. Patmore for me.”

Miss Baxter sat silently for a moment while Jimmy ate, then offered, “I’m very glad you came, Jimmy. You may not see it, but I can assure you that Thomas looks much better now than he did before.”

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders quizzically. “I just don’t understand. How did he get so sick? When I first arrived, Mrs. Hughes told me he’d gotten an infection, but how? He was always stout as an ox.”

Miss Baxter looked down, her expression revealing that she had been anticipating the question. She reached into her bag and pulled out Thomas’ copy of The London Magazine, folded open to a page in the middle. After studying it for a moment, she passed the magazine to Jimmy.

Jimmy took the magazine and read aloud. “Choose Your Own Path. Are you struggling with unnatural inclinations? Are you afraid you will never know love? Modern medicine now offers hope to those who….” Jimmy trailed off, his voice breaking as a gut-wrenching torrent of guilt and horror threatened to drown him. He dropped the magazine and put his head in his hands.

“Jimmy,” Miss Baxter said urgently. “Jimmy, are you quite alright?”

Jimmy fought the nausea rising within and feebly shook his head.

Miss Baxter waited patiently until Jimmy was able to pull himself together. When he finally looked up, she noticed for the first time that his face was creased with worry lines.

“Please, Miss Baxter. Tell me everything.”

“About six weeks or so after you left, Thomas went away to London for a week.” she began. “He told us his father was ill. But when he returned, he looked different.”

“How so?”

“He looked thinner, paler. He insisted he was alright, but over the coming days it became even more clear that he wasn’t. He had dark circles under his eyes. And sometimes when he walked he would wince like he was in pain.”

Jimmy listened silently, unaware of the tears beginning to rim his eyes.

“Then one afternoon, I heard someone cry out behind a closed door. I knocked, I asked who it was, and then Mr. Barrow’s voice told me to go away. But it wasn’t his voice really, it sounded like a man in agony. I managed to force open the door, and I saw pills, syringes… a whole medical kit. That’s when I knew he had gone away for some kind of treatment and was trying to continue it by himself.”

Jimmy’s head had sunk back into his hands, but Miss Baxter could tell by his rapid breathing that he was listening intently.

“I tried for days to help him. Everyone could see something was wrong. He never ate. He limped when he walked. Eventually he could hardly climb the stairs. Finally, he showed me the infection and asked me for help. I took him straight to Dr. Clarkson, who said the injections were just saline, not medicine. And because it wasn’t sterile, it was causing the infection. Dr. Clarkson admonished him to stop and I’m sure he did, because we left everything here to be disposed of. We thought he was going to get better, but the following morning he didn’t come down for breakfast. When I went to his room to check on him, he was lying insensible in bed, delirious with fever.”

“And Mr. Branson drove him here. Mrs. Hughes told me that much.”

“Yes, he and Lord Grantham carried him down three flights of stairs, then right out the front door into the family’s own car.”

“What did you tell them?” Jimmy looked up at her in apprehension.

“I didn’t tell them anything, except that Mr. Barrow had been ill with an abscess. I don’t know if Dr. Clarkson told his lordship how he got it or what he was trying to do.”

“But how did Dr. Clarkson know?” Jimmy could scarcely believe the famously private Thomas could have discussed this with Dr. Clarkson.

“He told him the day before, when I brought him to hospital. That’s when he admitted that he had been trying to change himself. To be like other men, he said. And... that’s when he finally confessed to the worst of it.”

“What could be worse?” Jimmy was aghast.

“In London, Thomas had undergone electrotherapy.”

Jimmy looked at Miss Baxter, mystified.

“He submitted to electric shocks.”

Jimmy gasped in horror, his hands over his mouth. Immediately he began shaking. Alarmed, Miss Baxter moved from her chair and sat on the couch next to Jimmy, who was hiding his face in his hands. She softly placed an arm around Jimmy’s shoulders. With embarrassment Jimmy roughly wiped the tears from his face, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. Miss Baxter considered a moment, then decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“I’ve known Thomas a long time, Jimmy. Since we were children.” She waited for a response. Receiving none she continued in even softer tones. “This isn’t your fault.”

Jimmy swallowed grimly, then turned to face her.

“Yes, Miss Baxter.” he said simply. “It is.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature rating earned in this chapter.

**Autumn 1922.**

A single cigarette passed easily back and forth between two pairs of lips. It was post-coital, at least for Jimmy. He had once again visited Thomas to relieve his tension. Feeling easy and relaxed, he lounged on Thomas’ bed with his back propped against the headboard, covered only by the sheet across his lap. Thomas sat fully clothed in his chair by the window which was open a crack. His posture was tighter but comfortably contained. After accepting the cigarette from Jimmy, Thomas opened the window a little more. Jimmy shivered as the cool autumn air wafted across his bare chest. 

“Oi Thomas, what are you trying to do, freeze me bollocks off?” Jimmy teased.

Thomas raised a brow and shifted in his chair, pulling his right leg a little tighter over his thigh, where he’d been sitting with crossed legs. He impassively looked out the window and said, “Some of us still have some steam inside that needs letting off.”

Realization dawned on Jimmy. He involuntarily glanced to Thomas’ groin, which was hidden by his crossed legs, and blurted, “What do you do, take care of it when I leave?”

Thomas choked a bit on his smoky inhale but managed to remain inscrutably silent. He kept his eyes stubbornly on the window.

Jimmy took the opportunity to really look Thomas over. He wasn’t a bad looking man. Actually, he was a very good looking man, tall, strong and striking. In all their time together, Jimmy had been beginning to learn how to read Thomas’ muted facial expressions. Normally a mask devoid of emotion, Thomas’ face nevertheless had a few tells, as Jimmy liked to think of them. His eyes, for one. They were too gray and deep. His other tell was his mouth. The smallest movements of his lips, a slight curl of the corner in amusement, a subtle thinning of the lips in disgust, were sometimes all Jimmy needed to appreciate what Thomas was feeling. But Thomas’ body? Jimmy admitted to himself he’d never really looked at it.

“So I’m using you.” Jimmy said. “I get satisfied and you get… left.”

Thomas blew smoke out the window. “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, keeping his gaze outside. “I get….” Thomas gave in to a slight smirk. “Inspiration.”

Jimmy felt a blush creep up his face. “You mean you think about me? What you do to me?”

Thomas finally smiled but didn’t turn his eyes. “You really are a daft cow, Jimmy Kent.” he said affectionately.

Jimmy considered this. He’d offered Thomas his friendship largely out of guilt from Thomas’ beating at the Thirsk Fair, a beating Jimmy knew should have been his. But he’d quickly learned how easy his friendship was to give, how much fun Thomas could be, and at times how considerate, at least of Jimmy. Jimmy no longer felt any awkwardness when he was with Thomas, which was so different than before, when it was an enormous strain to even be in the same room with him. The significance of this reversal now dawned on Jimmy, along with the realization that it wasn’t to his own efforts that he owed it, but to Thomas’. Like always, Thomas had been controlling the situation, making it easy for Jimmy, making sure he was happy and satisfied, in every way, without ever asking for anything for himself.

Suddenly Jimmy realized he wanted to give something back, to offer something to Thomas not out of guilt but out of affection. He immediately knew one thing he could do. Despite Thomas’ efforts to be restrained, Jimmy still sometimes caught Thomas furtively admiring his body. Jimmy sat up from where he was lounging against the headboard and swallowed his nervousness.

“What if I stayed?”

“What?” The evenness of Thomas’ voice betrayed a trace of surprise.

“If I stayed. While you… you know.” Jimmy paused. “I could do that.”

Thomas finally turned his eyes to Jimmy, the smouldering gray communicating a mixture of disbelief and hope.

Jimmy held Thomas’ gaze, then slowly pulled the sheet off so his full nakedness was in view. Thomas’ eyes darkened. Jimmy swallowed again, nodded reassuringly, then pointedly turned his eyes to Thomas’ lap.

Thomas understood the message. He slowly uncrossed his legs and stood up. His erection was undeniably apparent. His hands paused over the button on his pants and he looked questioningly at Jimmy.

Jimmy met Thomas’ gaze warmly and said, “Everything.” Thomas removed his shirt and stood bare-chested, hands hesitating in front of him. Jimmy nodded again encouragingly. Not removing his eyes from Jimmy’s, Thomas slowly unfastened his pants and let them drop to the floor. He stood before Jimmy, his arousal in complete view, with a mixture of vulnerability and defiance etched into his sharp facial features. In response, Jimmy laid back on the bed and parted his legs, on full display for Thomas.

Thomas groaned. His eyes drifted down Jimmy’s body while his hands slid down his own. Jimmy watched, fascinated. As much as he’d done this himself, he’d never seen another man do it, and it was captivating. As Thomas’ eyes moved over Jimmy’s flesh, Jimmy could almost feel the caress in them. It was intensely erotic. Thomas stood rooted in place, but rocked his hips in time to the stroking of his hands. His breathing quickened and Jimmy realized his own breathing matched Thomas’, and that he had once again grown hard.

This was not lost on Thomas, whose lips were parted in pleasure. Jimmy reached down and feverishly began working himself, his eyes riveted on Thomas. Their gasps and moans kept time, and almost simultaneously, they both climaxed.

Jimmy sank back onto the bed as Thomas collapsed into the chair. Languidly, Jimmy rolled onto his side and smiled at Thomas. “NOW you can open the window.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

**May 1924.**

Jimmy sat dejectedly studying Thomas’ copy of The London Magazine. His eyes didn’t focus on the words, but it didn’t matter. He knew the text of the advertisement by heart. His mind kept tripping over the words: _Choose your own path. Unnatural inclinations. Never know love._

Jimmy didn’t know if he had ever been in love. At least, not in the way that he knew Thomas had once loved him. He had loved his parents of course but that was different. He’d been keenly interested in several women but after their relationships had ended he hadn’t felt particularly broken up about it. No, Thomas had said when you were in love, you just knew. But Jimmy didn’t know.

What he did know was what it meant to care for someone deeply. Thomas had taught him that. He both treasured and feared his attachment to him. He knew it was strong, but hadn’t realized the depth of that strength until after he left Downton. It took him a while to realize the dull ache in his chest was from missing the man’s company. He was reasonably sure it wasn’t about the physical things they had done together. Since returning to Lady Anstruther’s employ, diversions weren’t lacking in that department, even though he had to admit they weren’t especially memorable. Even Lady Anstruther’s once rabid interest had waned, as if her humiliation at Downton Abbey had permanently tarnished the whole affair. No, what Jimmy missed was the camaraderie and compatibility he had with Thomas, their easy humor and effortless rapport, their common interests and companionable silences. They understood and accepted each other, warts and all. Even when they’d argued, sometimes heatedly, they had never again fallen out so dramatically as they had that autumn in 1920. He believed their friendship was robust enough to weather most anything, especially since they’d remained close after their brief stint as lovers. Thomas had become his closest friend, and he’d been sincere at their parting when he’d told Thomas he’d be sorry to see the back of him.

Now Thomas’ illness fully brought to light the emotional turmoil he’d begun struggling with after he left Downton. He’d known for years that the best friend he’d ever had was in love with him. He’d made peace with their lopsided affections and thought Thomas had too. In fact, by the time they parted he wasn’t even sure Thomas still loved him. It had been over a year since they’d discussed it and from then on Thomas never gave any indication that his feelings for Jimmy persisted. Jimmy considered the moment he opened the telegram informing him of Thomas’ grave illness. The cold, surreal dread that had crept over him was reminiscent of the other tragedies of his life, namely the deaths of his parents. In a blind panic he had left Lady Anstruther’s with barely an explanation and without even awaiting permission. Now, with a rare turn toward reflection, Jimmy tried to sort himself out.

His return to Lady Anstruther’s had been neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It wasn’t for lack of trying on the part of his employer, who clearly felt badly for her part in Jimmy’s dismissal. He knew that was largely why she had immediately offered him a position as footman in her house, with a significant increase in pay. And they had returned to their casual sexual affair. But Jimmy had not found it particularly satisfying, and he suspected that Lady Anstruther didn’t either. Jimmy often found himself preferring the newspaper or a game of solitaire in the peace of his own room rather than sipping champagne and messing about with Lady Anstruther in hers. To her credit, she didn’t make a fuss. So he settled back into his old life, but somehow it no longer fit.

Jimmy had also noted that his roving eye seemed to have taken a holiday. Once upon a time, seeking out women to admire had been second nature. Flirting had been a favorite diversion. Now, he still admired their beauty and occasionally felt stimulated by their attentions, but something had changed. He couldn’t bring himself to put any effort into the pursuit. It wasn’t because he’d developed an interest in his own sex either. He had nervously probed that question early and often in the four years since that pivotal event in 1920. So he knew with conviction that he felt no attraction whatsoever to men. Well, save one. And therein lay his turmoil. If recent events showed him anything, it’s that Thomas meant more to him than anyone else alive. Yes, he now understood with certainty that Thomas was the most important person in his life. But love…? The implications of loving Thomas were too great to fathom. Jimmy looked down again at the advertisement and wondered uneasily if it was also meant for him.

“Hello, James.” Jimmy was so deep in his reverie that he didn’t realize Dr. Clarkson was there until he spoke.

Jimmy started, then managed a smile. “Jimmy.” he corrected, while hastily rolling up the magazine. “The only people who’ve ever called me James are Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes.”

“Jimmy.” Dr. Clarkson smiled back, then turned his attention to Thomas.

Jimmy watched silently as Dr. Clarkson examined the patient and reviewed the notes that Jimmy had been recording on a clipboard hanging from the foot of the bed.

“His fever curve is better, and it looks like you are noting an improved level of consciousness as well.” Dr. Clarkson said, flipping a few of the pages.

Jimmy nodded. “He isn’t speaking or opening his eyes, but he seems to respond to me -- uh, to my voice and my treatments more than he did before.”

“And the nurses tell me you’re doing everything: bathing, turning him every two hours, changing the sheets, all without their help.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Dr. Clarkson smiled encouragingly at Jimmy. “You’re doing a fine job, Jimmy. No one could have done it better. You seem to have a knack for the work.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy answered quietly, then looked uncertainly at Dr. Clarkson.

Dr. Clarkson pulled over a chair and sat down. “Jimmy,” he said kindly. “Is there something bothering you? Anything at all that I can help with?”

Jimmy slowly pulled out the magazine and showed Dr. Clarkson the advertisment, who nodded in recognition. “I was just wondering, what exactly were these treatments that Thomas was subjecting himself to? It looks like snake oil to me.”

“There are a number of proposed ‘cures’ for homosexuality.” Dr. Clarkson explained, and noted a tiny wince that crossed Jimmy’s face at the word. “Pills, injections, electrotherapy, even hypnosis. The medications, if there are any used, which in Thomas’ case there luckily were not, are usually hormones or narcotics intended to blunt libido and performance. But there’s no medical evidence to support any of it. Thomas is lucky, really. He was only injecting non-sterile saline. Once his infection clears and the wound heals, there should be no lasting damage.”

“But, he’ll always be interested in men.” Jimmy said, looking at Thomas.

“If that is how nature has made him, yes. But sexuality is a continuum, Jimmy. Some people only have an interest in the opposite sex, some only in their own. Others feel attraction to both sexes.” Jimmy’s eyes involuntarily darted back to Dr. Clarkson. Noting this, Dr. Clarkson continued on gently. “There is nothing medicine can provide to change where one falls on this continuum. One must simply learn to live with the burden nature has given them, and try to have a satisfying, meaningful life.”

Dr. Clarkson paused. “But I’m afraid the law and the church are not so understanding. These so-called ‘cures’ exploit that. The lives of people who fall outside of what English society considers ‘normal’ can be exceedingly difficult. Thomas must have been experiencing terrible suffering to subject himself repeatedly to such a painful process.”

Jimmy nodded mutely, chewing on his lower lip to keep it from trembling. Dr. Clarkson stood and placed a hand paternally on Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Thank you again for coming, Jimmy. You’ve done fine work. And please, do come talk to me if anything else is troubling you.”

Jimmy nodded again and murmured his thanks as Dr. Clarkson rounded the privacy screen. Jimmy listened to his footsteps fade away, then rested his head wearily on the corner of Thomas’ bed.  

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature rating earned in this chapter.

**January 1923.**

Thomas and Jimmy were stretched out on Thomas’ bed, naked and spent. Jimmy lounged with his arms behind his head, in a half-doze as Thomas lay on his side next to him, gently running his fingers over Jimmy’s body. As they drifted lightly across his belly, Jimmy laughed softly.

“Oi, Thomas, I’m ticklish there.”

“Oh, so you are awake.” Thomas returned, and lightly wriggled his fingers around Jimmy’s navel.

“Stop it, Thomas!” Jimmy laughed, half-sitting up and pushing Thomas’ hands away.

Thomas grinned and said slyly, “Do you really want me to stop?”

“No,” Jimmy smiled. “Just no more of that.” He settled back again with his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. He loved these nights with Thomas. They had been occurring with increasing frequency. He rarely stayed away from Thomas’ room for more than a few days. When he came round late at night and knocked quietly, Thomas always let him in.

Thomas returned to running his fingers across Jimmy’s chest, then lightly over his collarbone. Slowly, he slid his hand up Jimmy’s neck, thrilling at the opportunity to luxuriate in the details of the other man’s body. Jimmy sighed pleasantly, then opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Thomas.

“You sure know how to take care of me, Thomas.”

“That’s because I love you.” Thomas replied tenderly. Sliding his hand up to cup Jimmy’s cheek, Thomas leaned over to kiss him.

Jimmy instantly stiffened and pulled away from Thomas. “What? What are you doing?”

A surprised Thomas pulled his hand back. “What’s it look like I’m doing, Mr. Man-Of-The-World? I’m trying to kiss you.”

“But I don’t want to be kissed.” Jimmy blustered.

Thomas regarded Jimmy with bemused frustration. “You’re a funny one. You’ll have sex with me but you won’t let me kiss you.”

“Sex?!” Jimmy sat straight up. “Who said anything about sex? We’re just messing about. You touch me. I don’t touch you, not that way. That’s not sex.”

“Oh is that right.” Thomas returned sarcastically. “Maybe you should ask Dr. Clarkson, because you bloody don’t know what you’re talking about.”    

“Look Thomas. You may be an Oscar Wilde sort, I accept that. But I am not. This is just a bit of fun, to pass the time and blow off steam. A dalliance.”

Thomas bristled. At the word dalliance, the painful memory of Philip’s rejection and betrayal flooded him. Thomas angrily got out of bed then rounded to look at Jimmy.

“Get out.” Thomas threw Jimmy’s clothes at him.

Now it was Jimmy’s turn to look surprised. “What?”

“You heard me, get out.” Thomas turned away so Jimmy couldn’t see his face and angrily yanked on his pants.

Jimmy stood up, holding his clothes in front of him. He’d seen Thomas’ anger before but wasn’t used to being the object of it. He felt his bewilderment transform into anger of his own as he remembered the first time Thomas tried to kiss him almost three years earlier.

“Why do you always have to ruin everything?” he shot at Thomas’ back. “All that silly, soppy talk of love. This isn’t love, this isn’t even sex. You always want too much! Nothing’s changed, Thomas. I’m not a… a… what you are!"

Despite the fact that Jimmy wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, Thomas threw open his bedroom door. “Are you mad?!” Jimmy cried, turning crimson.

“Don’t know what you’re worried about.” Thomas seethed quietly in his most venomous voice. “It’s not like we’ve been having sex or anything.” He placed a hand on Jimmy’s bare shoulder,  shoved him out the door and unceremoniously slammed it behind him.

~

Jimmy was barely able to contain himself the next day. Anger, hurt, humiliation, thwarted desire and unbridled fear all threatened to boil over at any moment. He was driven to distraction and could hardly function. He broke a glass, nearly dropped a tray and twice tripped on the stairs. Every moment was a struggle to maintain a modicum of composure and every moment he nearly failed.

Thomas, on the other hand, looked completely unphased, even to Jimmy’s knowing eye. The only discernable difference was that he said nothing to Jimmy. Otherwise he behaved as though the events of the night before had never transpired.

This made Jimmy almost blind with frustration. He looked for any chance to be alone with Thomas, although what he would do with the opportunity he didn’t know. Indeed he had no idea what was happening to him, and it was terrifying. During the first year of their acquaintance, he’d shrunk from Thomas and the rare glimpses he allowed of his true, unguarded self. Now he needed it with an almost crippling desperation, as if seeing Thomas raw would somehow unshroud his own internal conflict. He had to strip him bare, and in the process himself, no matter what the cost to either one of them.

Infuriatingly, Thomas was nowhere to be found, and Jimmy was sure that was no accident. His usual haunts were vacant. Mrs. Hughes confirmed he wasn’t gone on an errand. Carson curtly reminded him that it was his job and not Jimmy’s to keep track of Mr. Barrow. He checked the outside yard, the kitchens, the servants’ quarters and all the main rooms of the house. He even had to hurriedly make excuses when he abruptly walked in on Lord Grantham and Mr. Branson in the library. Jimmy had just come out from the servant’s hall with the intention of camping out in Thomas’ room -- _Work be damned_ , he thought, _let him come find me_ \-- when Thomas suddenly appeared before him in the hallway carrying a shoe case in each hand. The look on Thomas’ face confirmed he’d thought he’d succeeded in avoiding Jimmy and regretted running into him now. They both stopped abruptly, eyes riveted on each other.

“Hello, Jimmy.” Thomas said with a steadiness that belied the supreme effort it took to remain calm.

With equal tension, Jimmy replied, “Hello, T-, uh, Mr. Barrow.”

They both stood purposelessly in the hallway as a housemaid passed them and headed upstairs. They continued to regard each other uneasily as the silence confirmed they were alone. Thomas opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then closed it again in futility. As he turned to make his escape, something snapped in Jimmy. Without thought he sprang on Thomas, grabbed his lapels with both hands and roughly pulled him into the boot room. Jimmy slammed the door with his foot and pushed Thomas up against the door, pinning him there with his body. Jimmy stared intently into his face with a fire Thomas had never seen before.

Thomas’ jaw hung open in mute disbelief, the shoe cases dropped and forgotten on the floor beside him. He was completely immobile, both from Jimmy’s unexpected strength and from unadulterated shock. Without explanation, Jimmy tore open Thomas’ collar, reached his hand into Thomas’ hair and eased his head back. Then he sank his mouth onto Thomas’ neck.

Thomas gasped. Jimmy’s lips had never touched his body before. Now he was roughly kissing and licking a hot trail across the delicate skin of his vulnerably exposed neck. Jimmy was consumed, almost feverish with desire. Thomas tasted as good as he smelled: smoke and cologne and sex and _Thomas_. He felt Thomas’ pulse pounding under his tongue and growled.

“Jimmy, have you gone barking -- “ Jimmy sunk two fingers of his left hand into Thomas’ mouth, effectively halting all speech. He kicked Thomas’ legs apart, splaying him against the door. Moving in, he ground his hips into Thomas, working his arousal against Thomas’ groin. Feeling Thomas’ body swell against him, a lusty groan escaped him and he sucked Thomas’ earlobe into his mouth.  

Overcome, Thomas threw an arm around Jimmy’s waist and pulled him into an iron embrace. In response, Jimmy nipped Thomas’ neck, and not gently. Thomas moaned and covered Jimmy’s left hand with his own. Caressing it, he fervently kissed his palm and sucked his fingers back into his mouth.

Jimmy reached down with his other hand and ripped open Thomas’ pants. He moved his hand deep inside and groaned with satisfaction as it slid over Thomas’ bare hard sex. Thomas closed his eyes and saw stars. If Jimmy hadn’t been pressing him firmly against the door he would have collapsed. In all their trysts, Jimmy had never, ever touched him there. It had been years since anyone had. Electricity rocketed through his body at every arduously insistent movement. Thomas’ pants slid loosely down his hips as he bucked against Jimmy, his passionate moans muffled by Jimmy’s other hand over his mouth.

He didn’t last long. As his orgasm crashed through him he gripped Jimmy’s shoulders and buried his face in Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy held him steadily until Thomas’ breathing slowed. When Thomas finally released Jimmy, he looked up to see him slowly backing away. Jimmy’s face betrayed a completely unguarded mixture of desire and fear.

Thomas was possessed by the sight. Jimmy was the embodiment of irresistible raw sex. His pants still hanging loosely at his hips, Thomas strode to Jimmy and in one movement yanked down his pants, revealing the fullness of his arousal. At Jimmy’s sharp intake of breath, Thomas lifted him clean off his feet and onto the table, then sank to his knees.

It was Jimmy’s turn to see stars. He gasped as Thomas stroked, kissed and licked, then took him into his mouth. Jimmy was overpowered by sensation. Although he had heard about the act, he had never experienced it, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He gasped roughly, running his hands through the other man’s hair, and thrilled to feel Thomas’ satisfied murmurs as he suckled him. Jimmy shook a leg out of his pants and placed his heel up on the table, offering unrestricted access to Thomas. Thomas accepted by sensuously moving his hands, lips and tongue all over Jimmy’s intimacy. Transported, Jimmy lay back on the table, eyes closed in ecstasy. Thomas ran his hands over Jimmy’s taut abdomen as Jimmy uncontrollably thrust his hips up toward Thomas. Then Thomas' arms encircled Jimmy, sliding around his waist and backside, pinning him inescapably. Jimmy yielded to Thomas, who was in complete control. Thomas was relentless. Moaning his name, Jimmy wrapped his legs around Thomas and gave himself over completely. Then slowly, Thomas drew every inch of him into his mouth and sucked, hard.

Jimmy exploded, one hand knotted in Thomas’ hair and the other stuffed into his own mouth muffling his cries. Thomas remained deep on him, his mouth and tongue now moving gently as the final waves dissipated. After one last kiss, Thomas got to his feet. He stood with quiet triumph before Jimmy who lay prostrate on the table, his hands over his face.

Thomas leaned forward and tenderly slid his arms around Jimmy, who was shaking. He rested his head on Jimmy’s chest and listened as his breathing slowly settled. Then he gently pulled him to sitting and stepped back. His countenance darkened as he tried to decipher the unreadable expression on Jimmy’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but the abrupt sound of approaching footsteps shocked them both into action.

In a moment they’d both hurriedly replaced their livery. Thomas opened the door as Jimmy ran his hands through his hair and gulped.

“Thank you for your help with that, Jimmy.” Thomas said loudly as he strode out the door.

“And what is going on here?” Mr. Carson asked with his drawl of authority. “And why are you both out of breath?”

Jimmy stepped out into the hallway, carrying the two shoe cases. “I was just helping Mr. Barrow with his lordship’s luggage.” He managed, waving the cases for emphasis. “And we’ve been climbing a lot of stairs... with the cases you know.”

Mr. Carson peered suspiciously into the boot room. Seeing nothing amiss, he said somewhat uncertainly, “Carry on…” He then moved into his sitting room and closed the door.

Jimmy looked at Thomas in utter wretchedness, tears pricking his eyes. He turned his pale face toward Carson’s door and visibly began shaking. Thomas reached out to him, but without a word, Jimmy put down the cases and walked away.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**January 1923.**

“James, is everything alright?” Mrs. Hughes asked one morning a week later at breakfast.

“Yes, Mrs. Hughes.” he answered dismissively.

“Thomas?” she said. “What about you?”

“Never better.” he said peevishly.

“Trouble in paradise?” Mr. Bates whispered to his wife as they watched Thomas and Jimmy steadfastly avoid each other’s eyes.

“Well at least it doesn’t look like the police are involved.” Anna whispered back, noting how they politely passed dishes to each other but stubbornly refused to speak.

“I hope there isn’t anything that will affect the performance of the days’ tasks…?” Mr. Carson said in a tone that implied there had better not be.

“No, Mr. Carson.” both men said in unison.

But the silence continued.

 

~

 

Finally, Jimmy wandered out to the yard late one evening as Thomas leaned against an outbuilding smoking. Now that he knew Thomas’ body so well, he frequently thought how striking the man’s figure was. Tonight was no exception. Jimmy stopped for a moment to study Thomas’ long, lean silhouette as he stood backlit by a lantern across the yard. He looked beguiling in his smoky aloofness, filling Jimmy with exhilaration, lust and fear.

 _That doesn’t mean I’m in love_ , Jimmy thought. None of what they had done meant that. But Thomas loved him. It was undeniable. What Jimmy couldn’t sort out were his own feelings in return. Thomas’ friendship mattered enormously. And he had to admit their sexual experiences together were the most mind-blowing of his life. But love? The implications were terrifying.

“Are you going to stand there and stare or do you have something to say?” Thomas said unexpectedly, and Jimmy jumped. He hadn’t realized Thomas knew he was there.

Jimmy approached him and Thomas held out his burning cigarette. “Save you the trouble of asking.”

Jimmy took a drag from Thomas’ cigarette. It was still warm from Thomas’ lips and tasted faintly of him, making him shiver in the dark winter night. He struggled for words, but none came to him. His eyes lingered involuntarily on Thomas’ lips as he passed the cigarette back.

“Since there’s been no titillating chatter about your breezy hallway walk the other night, I’m guessing you made it to your room unnoticed.” Thomas said.

Despite the flash of fresh indignance the memory provoked, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile at Thomas’ dry delivery.

“And I’m guessing you haven’t been writing me love sonnets.” he countered.

Thomas winced and Jimmy immediately regretted the words.

“I was being honest.” Thomas said with quiet dignity. “I’d like you to pay me the same courtesy.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Then Jimmy asked simply, “Were you?”

“Yes Jimmy.” Thomas said as patiently as he could.

“But…” Jimmy examined the frost covering the yard, then looked up. “How do you know?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow in incredulity. “How do you know you’re in love?” he scoffed. Upon perceiving Jimmy’s plaintiveness, he continued more gently, “You just know, Jimmy.” He took a deep breath and decided he had nothing more to lose. “And I know I’m in love with you.”

The words lingered in the frosty air along with their breath. Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. “After the fair, I told you my limits. And you said you weren’t asking for more.”

“And I still haven’t.” said Thomas. “I made you an offer. That is all.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“But you’re the one who accepted it.” Thomas exclaimed in frustration. “For the last six months! You come to my room. You sleep in my bed. You control how far it goes. And you pulled me into the bloody boot room!”

Jimmy nodded silently.

“And you came out here to me now.” Thomas’ voice had become quiet and even, but he shivered in the cold night. He blew out a stream of smoke, then said, “So let’s hear it.”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Look, Thomas. I feel badly. I think I’ve been taking advantage of you.”

Thomas smoked steadily, watching Jimmy.

Jimmy continued, finding courage in the darkness. “I don’t want us to fall out over this. You’ve been a good friend to me, even when I haven’t been to you. You’re my best mate, Thomas. Truly. But nothing has changed, not really. I can never give you what you want. I… I can’t love you.” His voice sank to barely above a whisper. “What we’ve done has meant more to me than….” Jimmy hesitated, at a loss for words. He didn’t have any relationships to compare this to, they had all been so superficial. He left the thought hanging and turned his attention back to Thomas. “I care about our friendship too much to keep using you like this. It’s not right and eventually you would see how unfair it is. And I don’t want to lose you. So I think… I think we need to stop having sex.”

The corner of Thomas’ mouth twitched at Jimmy’s choice of words.

Jimmy paused, then reached out his hand. Thinking he wanted the cigarette, Thomas held it out, but Jimmy merely linked his fingers through Thomas’.

“So you’re back to being a proper little ladies’ man.” Thomas couldn’t hide his bitterness. “I think I can live with it, if you’re honest with both of us about your part in this.”

Jimmy’s blue eyes met Thomas’ gray ones and shimmered with emotion. “You’re right. And I’m sorry for everything. I know I’ve hurt you, I’ve hurt us both. But I can’t do this anymore. You’ll always have my friendship, Thomas. I hope that can be enough.”

Jimmy’s sincerity wounded Thomas more than his anger. Jimmy was finally behaving like a man. As Jimmy gently broke his heart, Thomas loved him more than he ever had. Reaching across with his left hand, he took the cigarette from his right, which Jimmy still held. He sucked in a threatened sob with a deep drag off the cigarette, then chuckled at the painful poignancy of the moment. He had yearned to know the truth in Jimmy’s heart. Now he did. Watching him keenly, Jimmy reached over with his other hand and held Thomas’ between both of his own.  

“I want your friendship, Jimmy.” Thomas sighed and looked up at the stars. “I hope you still want mine.”

Jimmy squeezed Thomas’ hand in confirmation. Thomas was the only person for whom he would ever have suffered so much. All of his previous relationships had ended when one or the other lost interest and drifted onward. There was never any discussion. This time, Jimmy cared about more than just himself. He cared about Thomas. Something much bigger was at stake, something that deserved the sacrifices that honesty required.

Thomas withdrew his hand from Jimmy’s and slipped it safely into his pocket. With his other he raised the cigarette to his lips but Jimmy could see the burning tip shaking in the darkness. Jimmy let out a ragged sigh and looked questioningly at him. Eyes glistening, Thomas bestowed a sad smile on him, but said nothing more.

They both turned and leaned against the outbuilding. Side by side in the darkness, they shared the rest of the cigarette in silence.

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

**May 1924.**

Thomas’ first awareness was that everything ached. His entire body from tip to toe felt leaden, except for a sharp pain on his right side below his waist. He wondered idly if he’d been beaten again. With effort, he opened his eyes and tried to register his surroundings.

This wasn’t his room. With a start, he recognized everything: the bedside table with physical exam equipment neatly laid out, the mayo stand loaded with dressing supplies, the IV pole with fluids hung, the privacy screen drawn around him. He’d spent years in this place during the war. He was in Downton Village Hospital. He held out his arm in front of him and traced his IV with a fingertip.

Then the sound of soft breathing caught his attention and he looked down toward the foot of the bed. He was stunned to see a figure seated in a chair, his head resting on the bed in deep slumber, one of his arms tucked under his head and the other stretched across Thomas’ legs. Although he couldn’t see the man’s face, he instantly knew the shock of wavy blond hair. He reached a shaking hand down and lightly ran a lock through his fingertips.

At his touch, Jimmy stirred. Rubbing his eyes, he turned his head toward his patient, then exclaimed, “Thomas! You’re awake!”

He lept up and instantly placed one hand on Thomas’ forehead and the other on his wrist, turning his eyes to the bedside clock to count. Apparently satisfied, he looked back at his mystified patient.

“Wha… what…” Thomas stammered. His mouth was a desert and he was having trouble making it work.

Jimmy quickly filled a glass of water from a pitcher on the bedside table and held it gently to Thomas’ lips, his other hand cupping the back of Thomas’ neck. Thomas coughed a bit but managed to get a few swallows down.

“How do you feel?” Jimmy looked anxiously at Thomas while he shook out a thermometer.

“Wretched.” Thomas replied. “What am I doing here? Come to it, what are you doing here?”

“You’ve been very ill with an infection that spread into your blood.” Jimmy explained, placing the thermometer under Thomas’ tongue. “They needed someone to help look after you and… well, here I am, Nurse Kent at your service.”

“Infection?” Thomas started to ask around the thermometer, then with horror he remembered. “Oh God.” He lay back on the pillow and covered his face with his hands.

“Do you remember?” Jimmy asked gently, then noting the other man’s obvious embarrassment he hastily added, “Because Dr. Clarkson said when the delirium cleared it meant you were out of the woods.”

“I remember.” Thomas’ voice was muffled by his hands and the thermometer that was still in his mouth. His mortification deepened as he realized that Jimmy must also know what he’d tried to do.

Jimmy noted the time, removed the thermometer and read it with satisfaction. “No fever. I should go and wake Dr. Clarkson, he’d want to see you.”

“No.” Thomas said quickly. “I’m alright. It can wait until the morning.” He dropped his hands and looked around uncertainly. “It is nighttime isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Eight days.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Seven days.”

“Oh God.” he said again. With difficulty Thomas rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.

“Thomas.” Jimmy sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thomas, I’m --”

“No.” Thomas interjected, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Thomas,” Jimmy said pleadingly. “I have to say this. I’m -- I’m so sorry. I never should have done what I did. If I hadn’t gone into Lady Anstruther’s room then I wouldn’t have gotten sacked, and I wouldn’t have had to leave, and then--”

“Wouldn’t have changed anything.” Thomas looked up. “You’re not like me. You made that perfectly clear. So why would I want to keep living this way?” His voice broke as tears spilled over onto his cheeks. He sniffed loudly and turned back into the pillow, his humiliation complete.

Jimmy didn’t know what to say. He started rubbing slow circles on Thomas’ back but his muffled weeping continued. Jimmy’s chest hurt with compassion and guilt.

“Maybe Carson was right.” Thomas said into his pillow. “Maybe I am foul.”

Jimmy gasped, unable to bear Thomas’ suffering any longer. Looking surreptitiously at the privacy screen, he made a decision. He removed his shoes, pulled back the blankets and carefully climbed up into the bed next to Thomas. With a start, Thomas lifted his head from the pillow, his pale, tear-streaked face registering surprise. He pushed himself up as best as he could in his weakened state and looked uncertainly at the younger man who was settling down in the bed mere inches from him. Jimmy met his eyes steadily as he slid his arm under Thomas.  

“You’re not foul, Thomas.” Jimmy whispered. “Come here.” He gently pulled Thomas into his arms and nestled him against his shoulder. Thomas’ breathing seemed to choke as Jimmy softly stroked his hair back from his damp face. Jimmy wrapped himself around Thomas like a cocoon and smiled quietly as Thomas’ hesitant arm inched around his waist. Ever so slowly, he felt the tension draw out of Thomas’ body. Without thinking, he pressed his lips onto Thomas’ forehead and willed him to relax. As Thomas’ breathing slowed and his tears ceased, Jimmy allowed his mind to clear and focused simply on the new and strangely comforting sensation of holding the other man. With one hand he held Thomas securely against him, with the other he continued to slowly stroke his hair. Soothed, Thomas slid back into a deep sleep. The gentle rhythm of Thomas’ breathing lulled Jimmy and he felt his body grow heavier. Soon exhaustion overcame him and he too drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, the sun on Jimmy’s face coaxed him into wakefulness. He immediately became aware of the heavy warmth breathing softly beside him. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see Thomas nestled against his side, his head propped on Jimmy’s chest. His arm was still curled tightly around Jimmy’s waist. He was the picture of peace, unguarded and somehow younger-looking. For the first time, his face was no longer pinched in pain. Jimmy couldn’t resist reaching out with his fingertips and lightly tracing the elegant features he knew so well.

With perfect clarity, Jimmy recognized this as a pivotal moment in his life. He was elated. He was terrified. And he was certain. Or as Thomas had once said, he just knew. Gazing at the figure in his arms, so beautifully and peacefully vulnerable in his slumber, Jimmy made his choice.   

 


	27. Chapter 27

**1923.**

After their painfully honest talk in the darkness of the yard, Thomas and Jimmy worked their way backwards from lovers to friends. Neither one of them found it as difficult to be together as they had feared. They still had so much mutual affection, common interests and inside jokes that they were able to slide back into their old habits relatively unhindered. Poker games and shared cigarettes, trips to the pub or up to York, pinched bottles of wine in Thomas’ room, they all resumed like before. But they were never again intimate. Worse, the playful physicality they’d previously enjoyed was also gone. Jimmy no longer linked arms with Thomas when they walked, he never shoved him affectionately in sport or rummaged in his pockets for cigarettes or drink while Thomas laughed; he was afraid of tempting the both of them. Thomas also reverted to keeping a respectful distance from Jimmy with a grace that belied how much he missed being close to him. He no longer shared the bench while Jimmy played piano, he refrained from hanging an arm round his shoulder while they smoked, he resisted the urge to squeeze his hand when passing a cigarette. He deeply regretted no longer having a way to lavish his affection on Jimmy. It made him feel cold and alone, even in Jimmy’s presence. Although his initial proposition to Jimmy had been carefully crafted in terms of sexual convenience, in actuality Thomas considered his every touch one of love for the younger man. Even if Jimmy didn’t know Thomas was making love to him all those nights in his room, Thomas knew. And he missed it dearly.

Jimmy also missed their liaisons, but tried to tell himself that it was merely a consequence of being a young man with no sexual outlet. He had to admit that his trysts with Thomas were exponentially more satisfying than anything he’d ever experienced with any woman. When his eyes lingered on Thomas’ lips, images from the boot room came back unbidden and he invariably felt heat course into his groin. But he refused to allow himself to reflect upon what that could mean. Whenever his thoughts wandered there, a vision of Carson outside the boot room took over and his mind froze in blind terror. So he convinced himself he had suffered from some kind of temporary lapse in judgement brought on by the potent combination of his affection for Thomas and the sexual frustrations of his youth. He even impulsively fired off a valentine to Lady Anstruther as a way of forcing himself to move on. If Thomas was good at hiding his true feelings from the world, Jimmy was even better at hiding them from himself.  

The only time either one of them made a reference to their past was once, after Jimmy had wound the clocks. “Still taking care of them properly?” Thomas asked when he saw Jimmy standing in the drawing room with his fingers lightly resting on the arms of the clock face.

“Still think of them as living things?” Jimmy replied, slowly turning the long arm.

“Of course. Do you remember the most important rule?”

“Feel for the slight increase in resistance.” Jimmy answered confidently. “Never go past the point where the clock is comfortable.”

The smile that had started to brighten Thomas’ face suddenly faded as a memory of his second failed attempt to kiss Jimmy flashed across his mind. It didn’t escape Jimmy’s notice.

“What is it, Mr. Barrow?” Jimmy asked, his hands dropping to his sides. Then he added in a lower voice, “Thomas? Are you alright?”

“That’s what I did. The mistake I made.” Thomas said simply. Realizing his true meaning, Jimmy looked awkwardly back at the clock. They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence.

“Forgive me.” Thomas whispered and moved toward the door. Jimmy remained, looking at the clock, then turned his conflicted gaze to where Thomas had been, but he was already gone.  


	28. Chapter 28

**June 1924.**

Thomas lay propped on his left side, watching Jimmy move industriously around the bedside arranging supplies. Thomas hated the irrigations. They were painful, humiliating and never ending; just when he recovered from one it was time to start another one. But he liked watching Jimmy. He still marveled that he had uprooted himself and returned to Downton to care for him. Every time he awoke from long, heavy slumber at night or frequent light naps during the day, he felt a moment’s panic that Jimmy might be gone. That was his pattern over the years: they would become close, then some invisible boundary would be crossed and he’d abruptly pull away. But something was different now. Jimmy was absolutely steadfast. Every time Thomas looked for him, he was there. Day or night, he was a constant presence. When he wasn’t providing for all of Thomas’ needs, he was sitting in a chair reading (he'd taken to perusing medical journals), or bustling about organizing supplies nearby, or asleep fully dressed on a spare hospital bed just a few feet away.

Thomas looked on as Jimmy tapped the ampule of morphine, ran a file across the neck and then broke the glass. “Not too much,” he said as Jimmy drew up the clear liquid into a syringe. Even though the injection was going in his IV, the sight of syringes reflexively made his flank hurt. He critically monitored Jimmy’s technique, but it was perfect. He had to admit it, Jimmy knew what he was doing.

“Are you ready, Thomas?” Jimmy asked as he washed his hands.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Thomas said and gripped a pillow.

“Alright, I’m starting the irrigation.” Slowly Jimmy began infusing the wound.

“So is there a new world order?” Thomas asked as the morphine haze started to set in.

“What?”

“A new world order. Where Jimmy is Thomas and Thomas is Edward…”

“I don’t follow you…” Jimmy said, eyes not moving from his task.

“I know you don’t follow me.” Thomas rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. “I wish you did. But don’t worry. You won’t follow me and I won’t follow Edward and Philip didn’t want anyone following him, least of all me….”

“That’s the morphine talking.” Jimmy said.

“That’s me talking. Don’t you know anything, Nurse Kent?” Thomas said through gritted teeth, then involuntarily winced again.

“Are you alright? Do you need more morphine?” Jimmy paused the procedure.

“No, thank you.” Thomas said, slightly sobered by pain. “It makes me a bit barmy. Please, let’s just get this over with.”

Jimmy studied Thomas’ face and quickly checked his pulse at the wrist. Reassured, he continued the irrigation.

“So when are you going back to Lady Ans-lover’s house?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy smiled. “Ans _truther_?”

“She won’t let you stay away forever. Who knows what she’ll sabotage next if you’re gone too long. The national railway system could be in jeopardy because of you.”

Chuckling, Jimmy replied, “I’ve written to Stowell, the butler, and to Lady Anstruther herself. She won’t let him make trouble. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

 _I’ll always need you,_ Thomas thought. Not trusting the strength of his resolve while under the effects of morphine, he turned his face back into the pillow to keep from saying something he’d regret. Jimmy studied him carefully, wondering what he was thinking. Ever since Jimmy had come to know his own heart, he had been contemplating what to do. Although Jimmy now accepted unreservedly the true depth and nature of his feelings for Thomas, he was still profoundly confused by the implications. Jimmy was exhausted by the maelstrom of his mind. But Thomas had no emotional reserve and was totally ill-equipped to address their complicated relationship. Jimmy yearned to talk to his friend, to tell him everything; it was what he had always done when trying to sort something out. But this was different. After everything Jimmy had put him through it seemed selfish and unfair to unburden himself on Thomas when he was so ill. The priorities now were Thomas' health and well-being. Jimmy’s heartache would have to wait.

But at moments like these when Thomas was unusually difficult to read, Jimmy wondered if he was making a monumental miscalculation. There was no guarantee that Thomas still loved him. Hadn’t he tried to change his sexuality? Maybe he didn’t want Jimmy anymore. Hadn’t Jimmy made it clear that he could never love Thomas? It had been more than a year since they had shared any sort of physical intimacy. Thomas wouldn’t have been wrong to move on. And from Thomas’ perspective Jimmy hadn’t even responded to his letters. Jimmy had been true to his word and tried his best, but everything he wrote seemed too intimate or too formal and ended up crumpled in the dust bin. Thomas’ two letters, while warm, were not effusive and had a guarded quality to them. He nervously admitted to himself that he really had no assurances.

As if reading his mind, Thomas asked, “Did you receive my letters?”

Jimmy looked rather ashamedly at Thomas. “I got two letters.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have gotten the rest....” Thomas mumbled. “Unless your post box was the fireplace.”

Jimmy looked at Thomas curiously but said nothing, not wanting to take advantage of Thomas’ morphine-infused disinhibition. He wanted Thomas to learn to trust him again. Instead he dropped the subject. “I’m finished irrigating. Let me dress it and we’ll be done.”

“Well done, Nurse Kent. You’re worth every penny.” Thomas sprawled on the pillows, his energy spent.

“Well, that doesn’t say much, since I’m working for free.” Jimmy laughed.

“Is Lady Anstruther still paying you?” Thomas asked, suddenly concerned.

“No, but don’t worry. Dr. Clarkson is letting me stay in the staff quarters here at the hospital, although I usually just kip down on a spare bed in here. That way I’m close by if you need me. And everyone at the big house is keeping the pantry stocked and the laundry clean.”

Thomas tried to push himself up in alarm. “From The Abbey? Who has come here? They haven’t seen me, have they?”

“Don’t get up, Thomas, I’m not finished.” Jimmy eased Thomas back down gently. “And no, the only people who have seen you, besides Dr. Clarkson and me, are Mrs. Hughes and Miss Baxter. Oh, and his lordship and Mr. Branson, since they carried you down from your room and drove you here.”

Thomas muttered something unintelligible into his pillow.

“You’ve had a lot of inquiries, though. Mrs. Hughes and Miss Baxter, they are here the most. Mrs. Crawley keeps the dressings stocked. Daisy and Mrs. Patmore come by regularly with food...didn’t you recognize the cooking? ...and the Bateses -- they brought notes from Lady Mary and Lady Edith, they’re over there on the table -- and even Carson stopped by. But don’t worry. I know how private you are, Thomas. I haven’t let anyone see you. I just give them an update and thank them on your behalf. They all seem to understand.” Jimmy snipped a last piece of gauze from the dressing. “There. Done. Now stop hiding your face and look at me.”

With rare obedience, Thomas lifted his head and looked at Jimmy. His grey eyes shone with the intensity of anguish. Jimmy reached down, brushed Thomas’ hair from his eyes and asked gently, “Are you alright?”

“Can I have a cigarette?”  

Jimmy smiled. “You smoke too much.”

“That’s your opinion, Doctor.” Thomas said sourly, then added in a kinder tone, “Please, Jimmy?” He waited expectantly as Jimmy reached for the pack. Thomas watched transfixed as Jimmy placed the cigarette between his lips, lit it and inhaled. Thomas hardly cared if he even got the cigarette, it was this small thing he so loved to watch. Jimmy then took the cigarette out of his lips and offered it to Thomas.

Thomas reached out with his left hand to take the cigarette, then abruptly pulled his hand back. “Where’s my glove?”

“Your glove?” Jimmy looked at him quizzically. “It’s in the drawer. But you don’t need it, Thomas, not here.”

“Yes, I do. I don’t want this to be seen by anyone.” He tucked his hand self-consciously under the sheet and reached out his right hand for the cigarette.

Jimmy passed it to him, then reached into the drawer and pulled out the glove. Moving around the bed, he placed the metal chair next to the bed and sat down. He gently reached under the sheet and drew out Thomas’ hand.

“You don’t have to be self-conscious around me, Thomas. I’ve seen every inch of you.”

Thomas’ cheeks flushed.

“I don’t mean that… well, not only that.” Jimmy smiled. “And no nurses are going to see you. I have been doing everything for you for weeks. So no use trying to put that genie back in the bottle. I mean it, it’s alright. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Jimmy cradled Thomas’ left hand in his own. He traced the scar with his fingertips, then added reassuringly, “I told you this before, a long time ago. It’s really not that bad.”

“Well it’s not that good, either. I don’t want to look at it.” Thomas said. “Trust me, if you knew you’d understand.”

“Fair enough.” Jimmy acquiesced and pulled the glove onto Thomas’ hand. “Now would you like some of Daisy’s broth? She said she had a story to tell you about it when you’re well, something to do with Old Lady Grantham’s maid. Although what possible drama there could be about broth I’m sure I don’t know.”

 


	29. Chapter 29

**March 1924.**

More than a year had gone by with no other mention of their past intimacies. On the surface, Thomas and Jimmy were solidly back on the platonic ground that they had previously held. But each silently suffered. Thomas longed daily for the closeness he had once treasured with Jimmy, but accepted his current limitations without question. Jimmy’s friendship was worth the ever present ache Thomas wore daily like the glove on his left hand. It was far better than the alternative. He had not forgotten the protracted humiliation of the year after he’d first tried to kiss Jimmy in his sleep. Anything was better than reliving that, so he tried to embrace their new kind of friendship.

Jimmy, on the other hand, stubbornly continued to tell himself that his growing sexual frustration had nothing to do with Thomas, except with regard to his no longer supplying a convenient form of release. He half-heartedly tried to look for female candidates in the house or the village, but he seemed to be living in a sexual desert. He couldn’t decide which was more frustrating, having no suitable women close by, or having Thomas close by every day. Such was Jimmy’s frame of mind when Lady Anstruther returned from France and began writing to him. He had just tucked himself into a dark hallway behind the kitchen in order to read his latest letter. He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn’t hear Thomas until he was mere feet away from him.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you…” Thomas said in a tone that implied he had actually meant to do exactly that.

“I’m sorry.” Jimmy said quickly, then whispered, “It's a letter from Lady Anstruther again.”

Thomas instantly became annoyed. “Blimey she doesn't give up easily.”

“Well you know me. Irresistible is my middle name.” Jimmy feebly attempted to hide his concern with humor.

Thomas wasn’t fooled. “Was she like this when you were working for her?”

Dropping all pretences, Jimmy answered honestly. “Not as bad. She had to be more discreet with the other servants.”

“Well you'd better go up to London and put her out of her misery.”

“Don't tempt me. Because I know this: if I weaken, I'll pay for it.”

“This sounds very like the kind of boy's talk I do not allow.” Carson’s voice suddenly boomed from the doorway as he strode in. Jimmy and Thomas instantly straightened up and looked guiltily at Carson.

“If you both can tear yourself away from your smutty deliberations, I need you both upstairs.”

Without a word Thomas and Jimmy hastily moved toward the stairs.  

 

~

 

Later that day as Thomas strode out of the servant’s hall he came upon Jimmy, who was standing in the hallway with another letter in his hand.

“Did that come in the second post?” Thomas asked, smiling at the sight of Jimmy.

“It did. From Lady Anstruther.” Jimmy hissed tersely, then walked into the boot room.  

“Not again! What stoked her up?” Thomas’ smile was gone. He glanced with concern at the open door, then back to Jimmy.

“It's my own stupid fault. I shouldn't have sent her that bloody valentine.”

“Yes but….”

“And I sent her another this year.” Jimmy cut him off.

“But how did she know they were from you?” Thomas asked, perplexed.

“'Cause I bloody signed them, didn't I?” Jimmy blurted out in frustrated confession.

Thomas gasped and rolled his eyes. Now it made sense.

“I don't know what I were thinking but, well now it's got out of hand.” Jimmy said desperately, then tried to be nonchalant. “Don't worry, one day I'll be a good boy and settle down. We all settle down one day.”

Thomas looked around the boot room, trying to avoid the vivid memories of what he and Jimmy had once done there. Unsuccessful, he ruefully replied, “We don't all have the option.”

 

~

 

A few days later over breakfast, Jimmy showed Thomas a tiny hand-written note.

“What do you make of this?”

Thomas looked down and silently read:

_“See you soon. S.A.”_

“Blimey.” Thomas breathed. “What does that mean?”

 

~

 

Thomas got his answer when Lady Anstruther appeared at The Abbey a few hours later, ostensibly with car trouble. He had no opportunity to warn Jimmy. He watched with interest as Jimmy walked into drawing room unawares. At the sight of Lady Anstruther, he stopped abruptly and all color drained from his face.

“James, please tell Mrs Hughes Lady Anstruther will be staying. If she could prepare Princess Amelia?” Lady Grantham said. Lady Anstruther locked Jimmy in a predatory gaze.

“Very good your ladyship.” Jimmy managed.

Jimmy and Thomas both watched as Lady Anstruther hungrily looked Jimmy over. As Jimmy hurried out, he glanced worriedly at Thomas, who tried to offer a reassuring smile but failed.

 

~

 

Jimmy didn’t know what was the matter with himself. He’d never minded Lady Anstruther’s attentions when he worked for her. In fact, he rather enjoyed the intrigue of secretly sleeping with the lady of the house. But now he felt conflicted. He couldn’t deny that he still found her attractive. In fact, he was embarrassed by how quickly his body had responded to the sly hand she slid across his belly as she passed into the drawing room. But it was all wrong. She had invaded his life at Downton. What did Thomas think? He felt simultaneously guilty about how her attentions might affect him and alarmed that he even cared in the first place.

 _Maybe her car will get fixed and she’ll leave_ , he thought. But he knew it was false hope.

“The chauffeur said there's nothing wrong with the car that he could find. So there's a mystery.” Anna said as she passed out of the kitchen and in between Thomas and Jimmy.

“See? She's here to see you.” Thomas said knowingly as the two of them moved down the hall together.

“I don't know what she wants.” Jimmy’s voice sounded strangely high pitched.

“Don't you? Because I do.”

“It's embarrassing!” Jimmy seethed as they ducked around a corner and found some privacy.

 “I have a feeling it could get a lot more embarrassing if you don't find a way to keep her quiet.”

  _What am I doing? I’m practically pushing him into her bed,_ Thomas continued to himself. Then he shook his head with a painful realization. If Jimmy didn’t give her what she wanted, she would make so much trouble for him his job could be in jeopardy. He knew how little tolerance Carson had for etiquette breaches, especially ones involving sexual impropriety. _No,_ he resolved. _Best to get this over with and get her out of here. This day can’t get any worse._  

 “What are you going to do?” Thomas finally asked. They both looked down to where Thomas had unknowingly rested his hand on Jimmy’s arm. It was the first contact they’d shared in months. Thomas immediately removed his hand just as Jimmy was beginning to think how comforting it was. Thomas never touched him anymore.

And never would. He’d seen to that. So there was only one thing for it. Grimly, he looked at Thomas and tried to ignore the ache in his heart.

 “I suppose I’m going to accept her invitation.”

 

 


	30. Chapter 30

**March 1924.**

Jimmy stood nervously next to Thomas. They were tucked into a corner on the gallery. It was late, long after dinner and brandies, and the family and their guests had retired. Jimmy had spent the evening trying to avoid Lady Anstruther and Thomas alike, with minimal success. He couldn’t understand why he was so conflicted. He was sensitive to the idea that Thomas might be hurt by him having a liaison with Lady Anstruther, but on the contrary Thomas had practically ordered him to sleep with her. _Well if he doesn’t care what am I bloody waiting for?_ Jimmy thought angrily to himself.

At the sight of Lord Gillingham sneaking into Lady Mary's room, Thomas spoke. “So Lady Mary's not quite so ladylike after all.”

Thomas’ voice pulled Jimmy back to the present so he tried to bolster his resolve. “Me next.” In response to Thomas’ neutral expression, he added, “You think I'm mad, don't you?”

“It doesn't matter what I think.” Thomas said with feigned indifference.

“Maybe she just wants to talk.” Jimmy offered hopefully.

“Maybe I'm the missing tsarevich.” Thomas countered dryly.

Annoyed with both Thomas and himself, Jimmy blurted, “The trouble is I can't resist it. Not when it's offered on a plate.”

“You're not alone there.” Thomas said permissively. He was anxious to get this over with. “Now if you can stay with her until three o’clock you can get back to your room unnoticed. I'll watch you until you're in there. If you hear me speak keep walking past her door.”

Jimmy realized he was out of escape routes. With sudden feeling he turned to the man next to him. “Thanks Mr. Barrow. Thomas. I mean it. You're a real pal.”

Thomas wasn’t prepared for that, and his lip quivered. “Well, I try to be.” he muttered, but couldn’t meet Jimmy’s eye. He watched as Jimmy strode down the hall, hesitated a moment, then quietly opened a door. In a moment, he was gone.

Thomas sighed. Yes, Jimmy really was gone.

Thomas lingered in the gallery, hoping against hope that Jimmy might reappear. Slowly, he began to move toward the stairs. He was deep in contemplation of what Jimmy might be doing at that very moment when the smell of smoke jarred him from his miserable reverie. With a start, he saw smoke pouring from under Lady Edith’s door. Crashing into her room, he was immediately rebuffed by flames. Thomas ran back into the gallery.

“FIRE!” he bellowed. “FIRE!”

Turning back into Lady Edith’s room, Thomas leapt through the flames toward the bed where she lay senseless. He hauled her up and stumbled blind toward where he thought the door was. Coughing, he desperately tried to fight the blackness threatening to overcome him. The clearer air in the gallery revived them both somewhat and he lowered Lady Edith to her feet. Leaning on Thomas, she staggered along beside him coughing. Managing to ease her into a chair, he sank to the floor as Lord Grantham ran toward them. Still dazed, Thomas didn’t register anything he said until the words “check the rooms” pierced through the smoky haze of his mind.

 _Jimmy!_ he thought desperately. He had to be warned, and he had to be sure Lord Grantham wasn’t the one to do it.

“My Lord! Let me check the rooms!” he cried.

“Now man!” Lord Grantham bellowed again for Thomas to get Edith out. He watched in desperation as Lord Grantham charged down the hallway, just moments from Lady Anstruther’s door and Jimmy’s discovery.  

Thomas coughed and threw up his hands in futility, then turned to the half-conscious Lady Edith. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms.

 


	31. Chapter 31

**June 1924.**

Thomas sat rather unsteadily on the edge of the bed. Jimmy hovered by him, his arm around his shoulders for support. Dr. Clarkson kneeled on one knee in front of him, testing the strength in his legs. One hand rested on his right ankle and the other behind his right calf.

“Push against my hand Thomas, as hard as you can.”

Thomas' brow furrowed as he struggled to kick his leg forward against Dr. Clarkson. Jimmy looked on worriedly.

“Good.” Dr. Clarkson moved his hand behind Thomas’ ankle and pulled his leg out. “Now pull your leg back.” Thomas again struggled against the resistance Dr. Clarkson provided.

“You can do it, Thomas.” Jimmy encouraged quietly.

“Very good. Now bend at the ankle and push your foot down into my hand. Excellent, now up into my hand? Well done.” Dr. Clarkson pulled out a reflex hammer and systematically tapped his legs at various points while Thomas tried to catch his breath from the exertion.

“There doesn’t appear to be any nerve damage, Thomas. You’re going to make a full recovery.”

“So he’ll be able to walk properly?” Jimmy asked.

“Yes.” Dr. Clarkson reassured them. “It will take some time and you’ll need to undergo physiotherapy, but you won’t have any lasting impairment.”

“Then why am I so weak?” Thomas panted.

“Because you’ve been very ill for almost six weeks, Thomas. But you will regain your strength. It will just take time and effort.” Dr. Clarkson said as he washed his hands.

“Are we interrupting?” Lady Grantham’s American accent wafted sweetly into the hospital ward.

“Ah, Lady Grantham! Not at all. Please come in.” Dr. Clarkson held out his arm in invitation as Lady Grantham and Miss Baxter approached. Thomas tried to get to his feet but Lady Grantham said hurriedly, “Oh please, no.” and motioned for him to remain seated. Miss Baxter caught Thomas’ eye and smiled at him kindly. In return Thomas managed a small, friendly nod of his head.

“Baxter and I just wanted to look in on Mr. Barrow and see how he is improving.” She smiled down at Thomas, who self-consciously ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Please forgive my appearance, m’lady...” he offered.

“Oh nonsense.” She said with sweet dismissiveness, then turned her attention to Jimmy. “And I also wanted to thank James for all of his hard work. I hear you have been positively selfless in your devotion to our Mr. Barrow.”

Jimmy blushed slightly and stammered, “Thank you, your ladyship. I am proud to be able to do it. Dr. Clarkson has been very instructive.”

“Your timing is rather fortuitous, Lady Grantham.” Dr. Clarkson said. “Now that the irrigations have ceased and the risk of nerve damage has passed, Mr. Barrow does not necessarily need to remain in hospital. I believe his convalescence may progress more comfortably back at the Abbey, if that’s at all possible.”

Jimmy involuntarily glanced at Thomas, but Thomas’ looked steadily forward, expressionless. Miss Baxter watched them both carefully.

“Well of course that is possible!” Lady Grantham exclaimed. “Heaven knows we have plenty of experience with convalescence, and what is one patient when we used to have so many!” She looked at Thomas warmly. “You are more than welcome to return home whenever Dr. Clarkson says you are ready.” Turning to Miss Baxter, she added, “Of course, there is no way he can get all the way up those stairs to the servants’ rooms. Baxter, please ask Mrs. Hughes to prepare a room in the bachelor’s gallery, like we did for William. We can look after him there until he recovers.”

“Certainly, m’lady.” answered Miss Baxter. She then glanced at Jimmy and continued respectfully, “I wonder, m’lady, if it is possible that Jimmy may accompany Mr. Barrow back to the Abbey? As a sort of medical attendant. Dr. Clarkson has made it quite clear that it is Jimmy we are to thank for Mr. Barrow’s recovery.”

“That is correct.” Dr. Clarkson confirmed. “Jimmy has performed admirably well.”

Jimmy and Thomas both looked up in surprise.

“Why of course! Since Barrow will be in the bachelor’s gallery, I don’t see why James -- I mean _Jimmy_  -- cannot stay in Barrow’s room while he is serving in this capacity. You don’t mind, do you Barrow?”

Thomas coughed lightly, his cheeks a bit colored. “No m’lady, not at all. I’m very grateful.”

“Well then, it’s settled.” Lady Grantham said with quiet authority. Jimmy breathed a small sigh of relief and said a silent thank-you to Lady Grantham. She had just given him what he needed: time.  

~

Lord Grantham was absorbed in papers at his desk in the library when Carson politely coughed behind him.

“Yes, Carson.” said Lord Grantham without looking up.

“I wonder if I might have a word, m’lord.” Carson said.

“Of course.” Lord Grantham said but his attention remained divided. “What is on your mind?”

“Well, I trust you are aware that Dr. Clarkson has cleared Mr. Barrow to leave hospital and to return here to continue his convalescence.” Carson began.

“Yes, Carson. Her ladyship has made me aware of it. It is happy news. I trust Barrow will soon be fighting fit again.” Lord Grantham looked up and smiled. “Emphasis on _fighting._ ”

“There is... one issue I feel I must bring to your lordship’s attention…” Carson drawled portentously.

Lord Grantham’s smile lessened. “And what is that?”

“The former footman, James Kent, has been tending to Mr. Barrow.”

“Yes, I had heard. For more than six weeks." Lord Grantham confirmed, then added, “Jolly big of him, I should say.”

Carson continued slowly. “Dr. Clarkson advised that James continue to treat Mr. Barrow and so her ladyship has given permission for them both to return here.”

“Ah.” said Lord Grantham, seeing the crux of Carson’s concern.

“Naturally, I had some concerns about the propriety of this arrangement, given the circumstances surrounding James’ dismissal. But of course it was not appropriate to broach the subject with her ladyship.” Carson looked meaningfully at Lord Grantham.

“I see.” said Lord Grantham. He sighed, then said, “Let them both come.”

“M’lord?” Carson asked with surprise.

“Lord knows we’ve been through so much with Barrow, having a fired footman around to tend to him is nothing by comparison.” Lord Grantham said wryly.  

“But James’ behavior --”

Lord Grantham cut in. “Well as long as that Lady What’s-Her-Name doesn’t contrive to have her car break down, I think we’re safe.”

“Very well, m’lord.” Carson nodded with dignity.

~

A few days later Jimmy scanned the area around Thomas’ hospital bed and ticked off a mental inventory of supplies. Yes, he was fairly certain he had everything he needed to continue to care for Thomas at the Abbey. If he had miscalculated, he could telephone Dr. Clarkson to bring what he needed on his next visit, or walk back down to the village himself. Satisfied, he turned to Thomas, who was sitting propped up against the head of the bed.

“I think we’re ready, Thomas.” he said.

“You’re ready.” Thomas said flatly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

Jimmy half-smiled at Thomas. “Don’t be spiky. We’ve been over this. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. You’re simply going home.”

Thomas rested his forehead on his hands. “Well I’m not letting them carry me on a bleeding stretcher like the war wounded. It’s too humiliating.”

“Ah, that reminds me!” Jimmy darted out of the room and returned pushing a dark wooden wheelchair. “This was Mr. Crawley’s. Moseley brought it down yesterday.”

“I can’t go in that!” Thomas cried, aghast. “It’s disrespectful! What if Lady Mary saw me? She can’t even handle seeing Mr. Crawley’s gramophone.”

Jimmy sat down on the bed next to Thomas. Placing his hand lightly on Thomas' knee, he said quietly, “It was Lady Mary who sent it down to you.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**March 1924.**

In the chaos outside Downton, Thomas tried to find Jimmy. He gasped with relief when he saw him off to the side near the front door. Collar askew and waistcoat buttons mismatched, he was talking to Lady Anstruther, who appeared to be pleading with him. Jimmy’s face was a mask of mortification. Several times Thomas tried to make his way to him, but he kept getting stopped, first by Lady Grantham and then by Carson. He finally managed to make eye contact with Jimmy, but his heart sank when he did. The question in Thomas’ eyes was answered by Jimmy’s: he had been discovered in Lady Anstruther’s bed.

Eventually, Jimmy saw Thomas alone and made his way over to him. Thomas resisted the urge to reach out and properly rebutton Jimmy’s waistcoat. They looked at each other silently, then Jimmy nodded grimly.

“Who was it?” Thomas managed to ask.

“Lord Grantham.”

“Oh God no.” Dread gripped Thomas in a vice.

“I think I’m finished, Thomas.” Jimmy muttered to the gravel, then suddenly choked back what sounded like a sob. “How could I be so stupid? I’ve ruined everything.”

For the second time that day, Thomas broke his vow never to touch Jimmy and laid a hand on his forearm. Jimmy covered Thomas’ hand with his own and held his gaze with tear-filled eyes.

“What will you do?” Thomas whispered.

“Lady Anstruther has offered me my old job back. As footman.” Jimmy replied flatly. He took a deep breath and tried to employ his best coping mechanism, breezy humor. “She feels terrible. If I choose to push the advantage it could be highly profitable.”

A painful laugh erupted through the agony that was threatening to overtake Thomas. _God, I love this man,_ he thought. Jimmy smiled at Thomas and squeezed his hand briefly, then they moved apart. Side by side in companionable misery, they waited quietly for the all clear to be announced.

~

The morning after the fire, Jimmy waited with clenched fists and downcast eyes as Thomas loaded the last of his luggage into the wagonette. When Thomas turned and slowly approached him, Jimmy raised his eyes to Thomas.

“Well, this is it, then.” Thomas said awkwardly.

“There’s something I want to say.” Jimmy’s voice was heavy with the weight of four years' history. “I’m sorry I put you through all that trouble.”

“Forget it. It’s in the past.” Thomas said dismissively, but he was surprised. In the last three years, with all their time and experiences together, Jimmy had never apologized for his part in Thomas’ near ruination. Or was Jimmy referring to something else?

Jimmy wasn’t dissuaded. He continued on with feeling and Thomas couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. “Well, you’ve been a good friend to me, Thomas. If anyone had told me I’d have been friends with a… a man like you, I’d not have believed them.”

Thomas swallowed uncomfortably, still not meeting Jimmy’s gaze.

“But we have been friends.” Jimmy looked searchingly at Thomas’ face.

“Yeah.” Thomas struggled to maintain his composure, jaw tensed and eyes closed.

“And I’m sad to see the back of you. I am.” Jimmy’s sincerity forced Thomas to meet his eyes, and what he saw there skewered him.

“You can always write.” Thomas offered feebly.

“I’m not much at letter writing. I’ll do my best.” Jimmy said with a chuckle. As his smile faded, his voice quavered with sincerity. This was his last chance. “But in case we don’t meet again, I hope you find some happiness. I do, truly.”

Thomas’ eyes hovered unfocused on a point over Jimmy’s right shoulder. How many times could one man break his heart? With effort, he whispered, “I hope the same for you too, Jimmy.”

“Oh, I’ll be dandy.” Jimmy quipped dryly and Thomas chuckled painfully.

“I’d best be off.” Jimmy bounced nervously on his toes a moment, then offered his hand. Thomas accepted it and they shared a brief handshake. Then Thomas stood, rigid and unwatching, as Jimmy moved past him and climbed into the wagonette. As Jimmy settled into his seat, Thomas looked up to see Jimmy sadly tip his hat to him. Jimmy held his gaze as the wagonette started to pull away. Soon, Jimmy was beyond his sight.

For several long moments, Thomas stood alone in the yard, staring at the spot where Jimmy had just been. Suddenly, the finality of what had happened struck him like a train. _Jimmy was gone, gone!_ In a panic Thomas ran back to the house and threw open the door. With his long legs he took the stairs three at a time, until gasping with terror and exertion he reached the servants’ quarters. He sprinted down the hall and crashed through Jimmy’s door. The room was empty, except for the stock furniture and two mattresses folded up, one on each bed.

Thomas looked around, his chest heaving. There had to be something. He scanned the empty shelves, yanked out all the drawers, then threw open the wardrobe and ran his hands through all the dark corners. He dropped to his hands and knees and looked under the beds, then stood up and pulled the mattresses off the beds. He even lifted up the rugs and hurled them onto the bed frames. There was nothing left of Jimmy, just a cold, empty, nameless room. He thought of the livery, how it would still hold Jimmy’s scent. He flew back downstairs, ran into the laundry room and threw himself onto the shelf where items to be washed were always left. It was empty. The scullery maid looked up at him in alarm, but he didn’t comprehend what she said. All he saw were the large copper wash tubs steaming before her. His eyes dropped down. Immersed in the water was Jimmy’s livery.

That was it. Jimmy was gone, and there was nothing left of him. Thomas didn’t have a photo, a note, not even a forgotten handkerchief, an old newspaper or a stub of cigarette. It was as if the only man who had ever really known him had vanished off the face of the earth.

All sense left him. In a stupor, his feet took him unbidden back out to the yard, to the last place Jimmy had been. His legs threatened to give out on him and he sank down to his knees. His hand reached out and touched the brick that had just been under Jimmy's feet. Shaking, his fingers caressed the contours, now precious as the last thing Jimmy had touched. He moved as if drugged, perceiving nothing but the solitary life that stretched before him, empty and unyielding. Too numb for tears, he simply knelt there with unseeing eyes, utterly bereft.

 


	33. Chapter 33

**June 1924.**

Thomas took a strong pull off his cigarette and winced in pain as Jimmy slowly removed the dressings.  

“I’m sorry, Thomas.” Jimmy acknowledged without turning his attention from his work. “The gauze has dried so it’s sticking. Let me use a little saline to soak it off.”

Thomas chuckled bitterly. He didn’t know what hurt more, the wound or the complete indignity of lying on his side with his bare backside exposed while Jimmy tended to the slowly healing wound. Four times a day, he was still faced with the pain and humiliation of this exercise. Since leaving the hospital he had refused morphine; he didn’t like the way it made him feel out of control. But the unrelenting dull pain became deep and sharp during the dressing changes and he found himself unable to control his sarcastic tongue.

“They should use you at Scotland Yard.” Thomas gritted his teeth. “With this kind of treatment you could get anyone to talk.” As the comment escaped him he regretted his ingratitude, but swallowed it down like a mouthful of dry porridge. He was in too much pain to be sorry.

Jimmy was unphased. “Shut it, Mr. Barrow,” he replied, emphasising Thomas’ title. As Thomas was improving he was becoming a more difficult patient, but Jimmy understood him well enough to know the barb was less about him and more about the situation. “Or I’ll shut it for you.” he added, waving the clean cotton dressing in Thomas’ line of sight. “I’ve got plenty to go around. Besides, we don’t have to perform the irrigations anymore, so at least there’s that in your corner.” _Not to mention me in your corner_ , Jimmy continued sourly to himself.

Thomas ground out his cigarette and turned his face into the pillow, hiding the beginnings of the tears that this exercise always threatened to provoke. He ineffectually tried to cover a sniff with a loud cough. Jimmy watched him grimly but said nothing. Instead, he held the bandage in place gently while he trimmed the silk tape. After securing the dressing, he placed his hand soothingly on Thomas’ low back. “There.” he said. “You’re done.”

“I am done.” Thomas’ muffled voice drifted up from the pillow. “I don’t know how I’m going to face any of them. They all know. I’m well and truly done.”

Jimmy was growing weary of this theme. He shook his head and said impatiently, “You don’t wear self-pity well, Thomas. Just let it go and get on with it.”

“Easy for you to say!” Thomas lashed out, turning his furious countenance toward the younger man. “With your beauty and youth and women -- and men -- throwing themselves at you! Stop sounding like the child you are. You know nothing about it!”

“Are you quite finished?” Jimmy said angrily while scrubbing his hands with unnecessary force. “I need to take these materials back downstairs but I don’t want to miss any of this pathetic performance.”

“Pathetic, eh?” Thomas spat out. “Well you said it. I’m pathetic. I’m old, I’m sick, I’m broke thanks to this misadventure, and whatever respect I’d managed to gain here through years of maneuvering is now gone.” Thomas painfully pulled himself to standing and Jimmy was reminded again of how much broader and taller Thomas was than him. Thomas winced as he eased his pants back up and swatted away the hand Jimmy offered in assistance. After managing his belt buckle, which Thomas noted was fastened two notches smaller after his illness-induced weight loss, he hobbled over to the window and leaned against the sill.

Jimmy placed his basin of materials on the dressing table, rolled down his sleeves and buttoned his cuffs. Sighing wearily, he sank into a chair and rested his forehead on his hand. Quietly, he studied Thomas’ back and listened for a moment to his angry breathing, then decided to change tack. One thing he’d learned from years of friendship with Thomas was that sometimes it was better to think before speaking. He considered his approach, then started again.

“Thomas.” He said quietly, endeavoring to keep all frustration out of his voice.

Thomas’ keen ears registered the change in tone. It seemed to sap a bit of the anger out of him, but not the humiliation. He didn’t respond or turn.

Jimmy could tell by a subtle shift in Thomas’ shoulders that he was listening. Focusing on keeping his voice patient, Jimmy spoke again.

“Thomas, look around the room.”

Thomas snorted.

“C’mon, mate. Look around the room. What do you see?”

Thomas gave a cursory glance around the room, then turned back to the window, his back still toward Jimmy. “It’s a room in the bachelor’s gallery here at Downton you plank, cluttered up with all this bleeding medical stuff.”

“Exactly.” Jimmy said, and waited. Thomas clearly didn’t get his meaning, so he kept going. “You said they all know, right?”

“Yea, they all know!” Thomas burst out in exasperation. “I think we’ve established that!”

Jimmy bit back an angry retort and instead continued evenly, “If they’re so disgusted by you, then why have they let you stay?” He waited for his words to register, then saw with satisfaction by the change in Thomas’ posture that they had.

“They all know you’re ill. Some of them know why, at least the people who matter and could run you out the door. But instead you’re hosted in the gallery like a guest. You’re here, under their roof.” Jimmy paused. “And not just you, but me, the sacked footman. Am I waiting at table and serving cocktails to earn my room and board? No. I’m here, by their leave, to look after you.” He paused, then couldn’t resist a small release of his own frustration. “So stick that up your jumper.”

Thomas sniffed and Jimmy watched as his shaking hand reached out for his cigarettes. The sight evaporated Jimmy’s anger and compassion flooded over him. He stood and walked up behind Thomas. Placing his warm and steady hand over Thomas’ cold and trembling one, he slowly took the cigarettes away. “You smoke too much.” Jimmy said quietly. Thomas sniffed again in response and rested his forehead on the windowsill. Jimmy moved in behind him, slid his arms around Thomas’ waist and pulled himself close. The length of his body was pressed against Thomas left side, away from the wound on his right.

“You were so beautiful.” Thomas whispered. Jimmy’s brow furrowed, not following the turn in the conversation. Thomas briefly glanced toward Jimmy but kept his forehead down on the window sill. “You still are, of course. But the day you arrived here years ago for your interview… you were so beautiful, we were all speechless. Mrs. Hughes said we’d all turned into pillars of salt.” Considering the biblical reference, Thomas thought to himself, _e_ _specially me, the sodomite._

“Beautiful? Silly and vain, more like. A preening peacock. Carson had me pegged from the start. I don’t know why he even hired me.” Jimmy rested his chin on Thomas’ shoulder, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He wondered how it was that Thomas always smelled fantastic, even in the throes of illness.

Thomas’ lip trembled poignantly. “I remember how I found out you got the job. You were standing shirtless in your room and I felt like I’d been hit by a brick. You asked if you could come to me if there was anything you needed to know.” Thomas paused, a hint of color blooming across his cheeks. “My heart stopped just then and I didn’t know if it would start again. I know now you were just talking about the job, but…” Thomas stopped. “A fool will believe what he wants to believe.”

Jimmy’s lips tightened grimly. He still felt ashamed for how he had not only contributed to Thomas’ misbelief, but how he had nearly crucified him after. So much had changed now. But they hadn’t discussed Thomas’ feelings for him in well over year. Could it be possible he still loved Jimmy? Jimmy’s heart lurched in hope.

“No one’s ever thought I was beautiful.” Thomas continued. “I don’t know what it’s like to have doors opened for me because of how I make people feel.”

Color creeped up into Jimmy’s face. “Are you forgetting something?” he murmured tenderly. Thomas lifted his head and turned to face Jimmy. Jimmy met his gaze and smiled at him with affection. “I seem to recall opening a lot of… doors... for you Thomas Barrow. And only you.” Thomas’ expression changed to one of deep emotion. Jimmy gently ran his finger along Thomas’ jawline, then lightly touched his lips. “C’mon. You’ve worn yourself out. Let’s get you comfortable again so I can go take care of these dressings.”

Thomas took a shuddering deep breath and clung to Jimmy, who felt an almost overpowering urge to kiss him. _Not yet_ , Jimmy thought as he struggled to restrain himself. Turning, he led Thomas by the hand back to the bed. Thomas sank down and Jimmy placed one arm behind his shoulders and another under his knees. In one move Jimmy smoothly settled Thomas back down against the pillows, then drew up the blankets. Perching on the edge of the bed beside him, Jimmy pulled out his handkerchief and gently patted the sweat from Thomas’ brow.

“Alright?” Jimmy murmured, placing his handkerchief on the bedside table. Thomas nodded silently. “Then I’m going to take the dressings downstairs. Be right back.”

Thomas watched as Jimmy walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. Turning to the bedside table, Thomas reached out, took Jimmy’s handkerchief and slid it inside his shirt, against the bare skin directly over his heart. Jimmy had said he would be right back, and Thomas believed him. But someday soon, he would leave and would not come back. Thomas wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

 


	34. Chapter 34

**April-May 1924.**

All the house was aflutter over King George’s radio address, for which Lord Grantham had procured a radio. But Thomas’ mind was elsewhere. As the staff returned below stairs, he wandered aimlessly into the servant’s hall. Anna watched with concern, as she had been for some time. She considered a moment. Thomas was not approachable at the best of times. When distressed, he could be as dangerous as a wounded beast. But something this time was different. He had an air of defeat that reminded her uncomfortably of his ignominious scandal a few years back. The only common denominator between then and now was Jimmy.

Deciding to test the waters, she followed him into the servant’s hall. “Cheer up, Mr. Barrow. Weren’t you pleased to hear the king?”

Leaning against the mantle, Thomas shook out a cigarette and said nothing.

“I expect it’s difficult for you with Jimmy gone.” Anna tried again. “We all need a special friend from time to time.”

“I wasn’t special to him.” Thomas answered in a low voice, his hand resting on the mantle. “Not truly.”

“I don’t agree.” Anna countered. “I think he liked you.”

Thomas raised his eyes suspiciously. “Maybe. A little.” he acquiesced. “But I don’t think I’m very likable to people here.”

“Do you want to be?”

Anna’s genuine nature touched Thomas and forced him into honesty in spite of himself. “There are times when I’d like to belong. Does that sound funny?”

“Not to me. Not at all.” Anna replied respectfully, and Thomas gave her a small smile in return.

Mr. Bates’ entrance into the servant’s hall effectively ended the conversation. Thomas moved over to a chair and sank down heavily. He appreciated Anna’s attempts to cheer him, but they were futile. Jimmy was gone, and with him the very beating of Thomas’ heart. Unable to face being alone in his room, he tolerated the Bateses’ presence and idly flipped through his latest copy of The London Magazine. His eyes drifted across the pages, then suddenly arrested on an advertisement. He leaned forward and read the ad, then read it again. He glanced furtively at the Bateses, but they were paying him no mind. He carefully rolled up the magazine and tried to remain nonchalant. Tucking it safely into his coat, he made his excuses and headed for his room.

 

~

 

More than a month later, Thomas stood alone in his room and studied his reflection in the looking glass. Every night he tried to ignore the magazine that he knew lay hidden under his mattress. For a while, a weak glimmer of false hope had flickered in his breast. Perhaps his lot would improve. Perhaps he would hear from Jimmy. Perhaps they would hire a new footman, someone like him. Perhaps he would meet someone in the village, in the pub, even in York. Perhaps things would change.

But things never did. He spent every night in the Abbey alone and defeated. Everywhere he looked, he saw what he knew he could never have. The day-to-day minutiae of Lord and Lady Grantham’s shared life had once held little interest for Thomas, but now it shimmered with a kind of sweetness he’d never noticed before. The gentle kisses on the cheek, the terms of endearment, the shared bed at night all tortured Thomas. Similarly, the dull annoyance the Bateses had previously inspired was now replaced by sheer envy. He bitterly noted the universal support they enjoyed and it wounded him to the core. Even Mr. Branson’s acceptance into the family was a source of pain, because Thomas now realized it was owed to the sanctity of marriage, which was something he would never experience. Thomas’ solitary walks, which had become more frequent in an attempt to get away from the house, provided little relief. The fine weather flooded the village with cozy couples and happy families, but hiding in an isolated corner of a park or lingering alone on a bench in an empty lane gave no solace. He tried escaping into the pub, but everyone always asked after Jimmy. Thomas never knew how to respond. Although he had sent two letters -- and written many more which he had burned for their honesty -- he had received none in return.  

Now that little flame of hope in his chest had been snuffed. It would never reignite. He knew that the problem was him, who he was, how he felt, how he’d always been. He looked around his room forlornly, haunted by scenes from the past. He could see Jimmy sprawled on the floor shuffling a deck of cards, Jimmy lounging in the chair drinking from a shared bottle of wine, Jimmy laughing at the window as he nicked a cigarette, Jimmy stretched naked and peaceful across his bed. And Jimmy, shuddering in ecstasy under his touch.

Thomas blinked away the images from his dry eyes and acknowledged his reality. He was alone, as he always had been, as he always would be. Jimmy did not love him and never had. Neither had Edward nor Philip, nor any other man. No one would ever love him, not the way he was. His heart was empty, but his mind was full, full of self-loathing, of desolation and of the weariness borne from a lifetime of shattered hopes. Despair perfused every fiber of his being. And he had no reason to believe it would ever change.

 

~

 

“Mr. Carson, please may I make a telephone call?” Thomas asked, keeping his voice artificially cheerful.

“Don’t make it a habit.” Carson admonished by way of assent and returned to his ledger.

“Uh, I’m sorry to ask, but I wonder if I might be alone?”

Carson sighed in annoyance. “If you wish.” He made a great show of rising from his desk and gathering his ledger and cup of tea. Thomas held the door for him as Carson moved out. He then quickly closed it, pretending not to notice Carson’s scowl.

Thomas pulled out his magazine and moved swiftly to the phone. He lifted the earpiece and tapped the receiver several times.

“Yes, operator, I want to place a phone call.” Carson heard Thomas’ voice faintly through the door, then moved indignantly toward the servant’s hall. Thomas waited anxiously for the answer on the other end of the line.

“Hello, I’ve been reading your advertisement in The London Magazine -- ‘Choose Your Own Path.’”

  
  



	35. Chapter 35

**July 1924.**

Jimmy closed the door behind Dr. Clarkson, glowing from the good news. He turned around with happy words on the tip of his tongue, but Thomas wasn’t smiling. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Preoccupation lay heavily upon his shoulders.

Jimmy’s smile faded. “What’s wrong, Thomas?”

Thomas started from his ruminations and tried to be dismissive. “Nothing, sorry. I was just miles away for a moment.”

“I thought you’d be pleased with Dr. Clarkson’s instructions. Don’t you want to start taking some exercise outside? At this pace, you’ll be able to go up to London for Lady Rose’s wedding.”

“I am.” Thomas lied. “I do.”

Jimmy kneeled down in front of Thomas and took both of his hands in his own. “Don’t try that with me. I know you too well. Now let’s have it out.”

“Really, it’s nothing.” Thomas tried to pull back from Jimmy but was unsuccessful. “I’m fine.”

Jimmy waited silently, unconvinced.

Recognizing futility, Thomas freed one of his hands and ran it through his hair. “I’m glad I’m getting better, really I am. And I’m grateful for what everyone has done for me, you especially. But…”

Jimmy carefully made his face a mask and tried to hide the growing anticipation in his heart. He had been waiting for this. But it had to come without prompting, entirely from Thomas. Only then would Jimmy know the time was right.

Thomas continued speaking to the ceiling. “You said you would stay as long as I needed you. And Dr. Clarkson made it sound like… like I won’t need you much longer.” Thomas looked down at where Jimmy's two hands continued to hold one of his. He noted that Jimmy's palms suddenly seemed to be cool and sweaty. Attributing it to Jimmy's discomfort with any conversation about the state of their relationship, Thomas hesitated. He knew if he said much more, Jimmy would pull away from him again, like he had done so many times in the past. But so much seemed different this time, and Thomas was terribly confused. He finally decided that knowing the truth was the only option, even if it meant an end to what had become the most precious few weeks of his life. 

He traced the line of Jimmy's wrist with the fingertips of his free hand and sighed, galvanizing his courage. "I love having you here with me." he began below a whisper, then paused. In the silence, neither one of them moved. Thomas finally swallowed his nerves and looked up to meet Jimmy's eyes. His heart was arrested by the intense blue in them. Throwing all caution aside, Thomas spoke the truth. "...I just don't know what we're doing. What is happening between us, Jimmy?"  

Elation and fear in equal measure coursed through Jimmy’s body and he realized he had been holding his breath. That was it. That was the sign. Now was the time. Thomas was ready, and so was he.

Jimmy stood, not releasing Thomas' hands. “Let’s go for a walk.”

~

Thomas marveled at the magnificence of the outdoors in a way he never had before; the soft summer air against his face, the heady scent of roses, the hum of birds and insects, the rejuvenating warmth of the sun. It all lifted his spirits in spite of the heavy weight of anticipated separation that still yoked his heart. Jimmy watched him warmly and held his arm for support as they walked slowly along a gravel path. Thomas held a cane in one hand, Jimmy’s arm in the other.

“The famously regal Mr. Barrow has a decidedly silly smile on his face.” Jimmy observed.

“I’ve always liked the sun. I thought about going to Bombay, back when --” Thomas broke off, suddenly realizing his mistake, but it was too late.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Thomas.” Jimmy said with feeling. “I still can’t believe what I put you through, how stupid I was. And no one, _no one_ agreed with me except Alfred and that shrew O’Brien. Mrs. Hughes, Ivy, Daisy, Mrs. Patmore, even his lordship all rose to your defense. And that gobby old Bates called me a big girls’ blouse, did I ever tell you that?”

They both laughed as the tension evaporated. “I’ll always have Bates to thank for saving me.” Thomas said ruefully.

“And I’m sure you’ll never forgive him.” Jimmy teased. “He handled O’Brien, but don’t forget his lordship. He took care of Alfred and Carson… and even me.” Jimmy paused. “But there’s something I never understood. Carson said you absolved me. Alfred said you wouldn’t hear a bad word against me.” Jimmy looked at Thomas. “Why did you throw yourself on your sword?”

Slightly embarrassed, Thomas looked at the ground. “I knew you could never be unkind, not without someone putting you up to it.”

“But why? How could you be so steadfast?” Jimmy marveled. “For four years, you’ve done this. Always thinking the best of me, defending me, looking after me, no matter how awful I’ve been to you. I haven’t earned your good opinion, and yet that’s exactly what you’ve always given me.”

“What do you call this? No one could have been more dedicated.”

“It’s little and it’s late, and you know it.”

Thomas stopped walking, closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun. He decided to evoke a phrase from the past, only this time he said it with a sigh instead of sarcasm. “You know why.”

Jimmy remained silent, trying to decide where to begin. But Thomas’ mind had drifted back to the summer scents around him, and he inhaled deeply. “I haven’t been outside in months. It’s heaven.”

“It’s not heaven, it’s Downton.” Jimmy replied. “Although sometimes, they feel like one and the same.”

Thomas opened his eyes and looked at Jimmy. “You’ve changed your tune. You used to complain all the time about how dull life was here.”

“I think we both know how bloody thick I was then. I didn’t know how good I had it.” Jimmy scowled and kicked the gravel with the toe of his shoe.

“Can I get that in writing?” Thomas chuckled, which forced a smile back onto Jimmy’s face.

They continued on at a leisurely pace, enjoying the summertime sights and sounds in comfortable silence. When they reached a high wooden gate Jimmy stepped forward, opened it for Thomas, then latched it again after they passed through.

Jimmy guided Thomas to a stone bench. After settling Thomas, Jimmy sat beside him. They were tucked away in a charming garden enclosed by high privet. The beds were bordered by red and pink dianthus, offset by a background of delphinium, hollyhocks and hydrangeas. On either side of them, rosy sweetness wafted up and curled around them. They were alone and entirely sheltered from view in fragrant tranquility. Jimmy looked around and decided this was the place.

“You really are getting better, Thomas.” Jimmy began quietly, but the pounding of his heart seemed deafening. “You won’t be needing medical care much longer.”

The clouds passed over Thomas’ eyes again, and he somewhat hesitantly slid his hand into Jimmy’s. It was a liberty Thomas had only recently had the courage to take and it was a thrill to which he was not yet accustomed.   

“I suppose you’ll be returning to Lady Anstruther’s then.” Thomas said, then tried rather unsuccessfully to add some levity. “Better rest up.”

“I’m not going back, Thomas.”

“What?” Thomas looked incredulously at Jimmy.

Jimmy turned and met his eye. “I’m not going back to London.”

The questions spilled out of Thomas. “What do you mean? What will you do? Do you have another job? Where? With whom --”

Jimmy held up his hand and Thomas stopped. “I don’t have another job. I don’t know what I’m going to do, actually. I just know I can’t go back.”

“Well that sounds like impulsive Jimmy all over again, doesn’t it?” Thomas said with concern. “Best not to do anything hasty and wait till you have something lined up.”

Jimmy regarded Thomas steadily. “I sent in my notice two weeks ago.”

“You what?! Did you get a response?”

Jimmy pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it to Thomas. Opening it, Thomas read aloud.

 

 _“Dear Jimmy, I had been informed of your notice, but I greatly appreciate the thoughtful note you sent to me as well. Although I am not surprised I am nevertheless saddened you will not be returning. I cannot help but feel responsible for all the upheaval you have recently suffered. Please accept six months’ wages as a token of my sincere regret and steadfast affection. I continue to be embarrassed at the way I have ill-treated you and I hope you will forgive me. You will of course have a good reference. I hope that goes without saying. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask. Hoping to call myself your friend -- S.A.”_   

 

“Blimey,” Thomas breathed, handing the note back to Jimmy. “She doesn’t do anything by half-measures, does she?”

Jimmy looked up at the wisp of clouds dotting the otherwise flawless blue sky. “In the end, she weren’t a bad person, really. Just impetuous and foolhardy. Not unlike someone we know.”

Thomas squeezed Jimmy’s hand. “So what will you do?”

“I don’t know.” Jimmy said. “But I don’t think I want to stay in service. It’s a good match for you, Thomas. That’s why you’ve done so well. But me? I always end up in one scrape or another. And frankly I’m sick of these toffs.” Chuckling, he added. “But at least Lady Anstruther has seen to it that I don’t have to make a decision right away.”

“But eventually you’ll have to get work somewhere.”

“That’s true. Maybe I can get a job at the pub or something.”

“The pub?!” Thomas exclaimed. “You’d rather rent some dodgy room and wait on blokes like us than live in a fine house and serve a noble family?"

“I don’t really know…” Jimmy said uncomfortably. “I’ll admit it doesn’t sound too appealing. But I’ll do whatever I need to do to stay in Downton.”

The flame of hope that Thomas thought was dead began to kindle in his breast. “Stay in Downton?”

Jimmy knew Thomas so well he immediately noted the emotion in his voice. His own heart melted with the comfort of finally being able to speak of what had burdened him ever since he returned. Smiling at Thomas, he simply nodded. As his eyes drifted down, Jimmy placed their joined hands on his lap. He gently uncurled Thomas’ fingers so his palm was exposed, then lightly traced the lines with his fingertip. Hearing Thomas’ breath hitch in response, he felt overwhelming joy. Finally, he dared to believe he hadn’t lost his chance after all.

As Jimmy’s touch made his pulse race, the hopeful flicker in Thomas’ breast flared dangerously. Trying to control his voice, he carefully said, “But, you’re not like me. You said you could never give me what I want.”

Months of contemplation had finally given Jimmy a sense of solidity. For the second time in his life, he was prepared with what he wanted to say. “It’s complicated, Thomas. When we first met, I was immediately drawn to you and wanted to be your friend. But I didn’t feel about you the way you did about me, and I was sure that I never could… for you or any man. If anything, the more O’Brien told me to tolerate your advances, the more repelled I became. It really overpowered any liking I’d had for you at the beginning. And then, to be perfectly honest, you frightened me by coming into my bedroom while I was asleep. I felt violated, like you’d betrayed my trust in you. It really put me off.”

Thomas looked down ashamedly and nodded his understanding. “I still feel terrible about that. It’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.”

“We both know O’Brien’s part in it, but yes, even with that it was stupid.” Jimmy confirmed. “But then, at the Thirsk Fair you saved me from my own idiocy. After that I saw you again as the man I first met when I came to Downton, someone clever and strong, someone who could be a friend to me. And you were, once I finally let you.”

“I was your friend before that, you were just too dim to see it.”

Jimmy smiled in agreement. “Well, once I had the right end of the stick, we had the time of our lives, didn’t we? We were so compatible, Thomas, such great friends. But soon, I ended up in a muddle, and that’s where I’ve been ever since. I… I felt things with you I’d never felt before. I don’t just mean the sex. That was part of it of course--” he admitted with a blush, and they both laughed nervously. “But it was more than that. The day hadn’t started until I saw you. Something hadn’t really happened unless I told you about it. Nothing was ever as much fun until we’d laughed over it together. And I couldn’t go to sleep unless I’d wished you good night.”

Thomas listened mutely. His free hand had unknowingly moved to rest over the pain in his chest and he didn’t dare to breathe. His other hand gripped Jimmy’s in a vice.

“In a way, leaving Downton helped me to start sorting it out. And then, when you got sick….” Jimmy trailed off, his face clouded with painful memories. “I realized I couldn’t bear to be without you.”

Thomas' mouth hung open. “What happened to having a good time, drinking champagne, spending money? The fun life you always said you wanted?”

“I’ve grown up.”

“But…” Thomas couldn’t let go of one thing. “You… you fancy women, not men.”

“That’s still true. But it’s not men. It’s man. It’s you. I can’t lose you, Thomas. I don’t want anybody but you. You’re all I think about in the day and all I dream of at night. Does that make me a homosexual?” he paused. “I don’t know. And I’ve decided I don’t need to know.” He looked up into Thomas’ face. “All I know is that I am in love with you.”

Thomas sat speechless, frozen in place.

“Can it be possible that Thomas Barrow is at a loss for words?” Jimmy teased sweetly.

“Jimmy, is that true?” Thomas finally managed. His lips trembled and his voice nearly failed him. “Are you sure?”

Jimmy held his gaze calmly and smiled with an ease Thomas hadn’t seen since their private hours in his bedroom. He brought Thomas’ hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “It’s true. And I’m sure.”

Thomas choked on the tears threatening to overpower him. “No one has ever loved me. Not since my mum died.”

Jimmy released Thomas’ hand and gently cupped his face, his fingers playing across Thomas’ shocked features. Thomas hands moved to Jimmy’s lapels where he held on in desperation. With his thumbs Jimmy wiped away the tears that had finally spilled over onto Thomas’ pale cheeks.

“Well, you can’t say that now, can you.” He leaned in and hovered with his lips just before Thomas’, who still clung desperately to him. Their breath mingled and their eyes closed in anticipation of their first true kiss. Jimmy then closed the distance and touched his lips tenderly to Thomas’.

All thought flew from Thomas’ mind as Jimmy’s lips moved softly against his. As shock gave way to arousal, Thomas returned the kiss fervently and felt Jimmy’s response intensify. Jimmy’s tongue gently parted his lips, then slipped inside his mouth. Thomas succumbed, his arms moving to encircle to the man he loved. Jimmy’s hands slid from Thomas’ face to his neck and hair and held him with equal strength. As the kiss deepened it became more desperate, and they gasped with passion. When their breathlessness overtook them, they clung to each other, laughing, crying and kissing.

“Are you sure, Jimmy?” Thomas breathed as Jimmy hungrily kissed along his jaw toward his ear. “I mean really sure. It’s a difficult life.”

“I’m sure.” Jimmy’s lips moved against Thomas’ ear, making him shiver. Then Jimmy pulled back, held Thomas’ face in both hands and looked him directly in the eyes. “I don’t want to live without you Thomas. I don’t know what we’re in for, but we’ll face it together.”

As Jimmy’s lips lightly played over Thomas’ face, Thomas managed a deep, shuddering breath, finally daring to believe. Perceiving Thomas’ acceptance, Jimmy pulled him securely into his arms. Thomas rested his head on Jimmy’s shoulder and finally closed his eyes. He was no longer alone.

 


	36. Chapter 36

**July 1924.**

Dr. Clarkson washed his hands in the basin as Thomas arranged himself behind the privacy screen that had been set up in his room in the bachelor’s gallery. Jimmy, Miss Baxter and Mrs. Hughes stood respectfully aside, awaiting Dr. Clarkson’s assessment.

“The wound has completely closed.” Dr. Clarkson said. “I must say I’m pleasantly surprised at how well it has healed. I hadn’t wanted to worry you, but sometimes infections never fully resolve and become chronic. I’m happy to report there is no longer any risk of that in this case.”

“Oh thank God.” Miss Baxter breathed, as Mrs. Hughes and Jimmy smiled with relief. “I’d best go and inform her ladyship. She insisted I give her an account of Dr. Clarkson’s visit.”

“Thank you, Dr. Clarkson.” Mrs. Hughes added. “And thank you, Jimmy.”

“Isn’t anyone going to thank me?” Thomas added peevishly from behind the screen. “I’m the one who did all the healing.”

“Cheeky.” Jimmy grinned.

“Yes, he certainly is making a full recovery.” Mrs. Hughes sighed in mock weariness. “That’s definitely our Mr. Barrow.”

They all smiled in amusement as the ladies excused themselves and left.

Closing the door behind them, Dr. Clarkson turned to Jimmy.

“Jimmy, I wonder if I might ask you a question.” he said.

“Of course, Dr. Clarkson.” Jimmy replied as Thomas stepped out from behind the privacy screen and looked at Dr. Clarkson curiously.

“I was wondering what your plans are now that Mr. Barrow no longer needs your medical attention. Are you returning to service?”

Thomas and Jimmy glanced quickly at each other. It did not escape Dr. Clarkson’s clinical eye.

“Well…” Jimmy stammered. “I wasn’t planning to. To be honest, I don’t really know…”

“He’s a man at liberty.” Thomas offered helpfully as he eased himself to sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I see.” Dr. Clarkson said. “Well in that case, I was curious to know if you had any interest in continuing to work in the medical field?”

“I’m sorry?” Jimmy asked, clearly confused.

“You have a natural talent for the work, Jimmy. I wasn’t paying false compliments when I said that Thomas’ complete recovery is largely attributable to your care.”

“But, I’ve only ever been a footman. Don’t you need to have training or something?” Jimmy asked incredulously.

“Yes, you do.” Dr. Clarkson replied. “Downton Hospital, like many across England, is suffering from a severe shortage of support staff. That’s why we called for your assistance in the first place, as you may recall.”

Thomas and Jimmy both nodded.

“To address this shortage, the Downton Hospital Foundation has established a fellowship that will pay for training as a hospital orderly. In return, the candidate makes a three year commitment to working in our hospital.”

“Where is the training course?” asked Jimmy. “At Downton Hospital?”

“No, I’m afraid we’re too small to be a training site. The course is at the teaching hospital in York.”

“Where Lady Sybil trained?” Thomas asked.

“Yes.” Dr. Clarkson confirmed. “It’s a three month course and it’s actually quite similar to the auxiliary nurse training Lady Sybil underwent in the war. Do you think you might be interested, Jimmy?”

“Yes!” Jimmy said without hesitation. “I think that might be just the thing for me. I have to admit that I’ve felt more useful the past few months than I have felt in years.”

Dr. Clarkson smiled with some relief. “I was hoping you might say that. I took the liberty of writing to York on your behalf and securing a place for you in their next training course. I’m afraid it begins quite soon, next week in fact. If Thomas wasn’t ready, I was planning to ask them to save a place for you in the following course, but I am pleased that Thomas is well enough to do without you now.”

Thomas blinked slightly at the final statement, but maintained a careful expression of happiness. However, he couldn’t help but ask, “So, Jimmy would then return to work at Downton Hospital?”

Dr. Clarkson’s eyes betrayed a knowing glimmer as he regarded Thomas. “That is correct.”

“This sounds too good to be true!” Jimmy said excitedly. “I can’t thank you enough, Dr. Clarkson. Honestly. I will do my best to prove myself worthy of it.”

“You already have, Jimmy.” Dr. Clarkson answered.  

 

~

 

A few days later, Jimmy and Thomas lay on the bed in Thomas’ old room in the servants’ quarters. They lay on their backs fully clothed, with Thomas’ head on Jimmy’s shoulder. There had been no kissing, no sex, simply comfort and conversation. It was a new kind of intimacy. Each of them savored it, especially since Jimmy’s departure loomed before them. His train to York left the next morning.

“Why aren’t you happy?” Jimmy murmured presently.

“I am happy.” Thomas sniffed, taking Jimmy’s hand. “I wasn’t ready to part with you just yet, that’s all.”   

“It’s only three months and York isn’t that far away.” Jimmy said reassuringly. “And more importantly, I’ll be returning to Downton -- to you. It’s an answer to our prayers.”

“Since when do we pray?” Thomas snorted, an involuntary smile creeping onto his lips.

“Figure of speech.” Jimmy smiled back. “Besides, what did I say when I first came here four years ago? I don’t believe in orthodoxy. Especially not now. How can I accept a religion that doesn’t accept us?” He kissed Thomas lightly on the tip of his nose. “We can pray to whomever or whatever we want. We could kneel before Isis’ memorial stone. She was far more worthy than any of that dusty old C of E lot.”

“You also said a man can choose to be different without being a traitor. But I must warn you, our kind of difference is viewed as traitorous. To God and man and the birds and the bees and all that rot.” Thomas said bitterly.

“Thomas.” Jimmy placed his finger under Thomas’ chin and turned his head toward him. “We’re in this together. I mean it. I know we have to be careful.”

“We have to be more than careful. We have to be secret. To be otherwise risks our freedom, our livelihoods, even our lives.”

“Why are you saying this? I thought you wanted...” Jimmy trailed off, worry creasing his brow.

“I do, Jimmy.” Thomas nuzzled into Jimmy’s neck and kissed him gently, his mind momentarily numbed by his intoxicating smell and taste. “I just want you to understand. I’ve had nearly my whole life to consider the implications of being who I am, and I’ve paid dearly for it. It’s new for you. The threat of ruination will always be a spectre in our lives. Even with these small signs of acceptance from a few of those around us, we’ll never be able to go through life like normal couples. Have you thought about that? Never having a wedding? Never having children? It’s likely we’ll never even be able to live together. No one’s ever going to cheer for us or celebrate us or give us a cozy little cottage like the bloody Bateses.”

Jimmy looked steadily at Thomas. “I’ve had years at The Abbey to think about it. I’ve had months away from you in London to think about it. I’ve had weeks of agony at your hospital bedside to think about it. And now, I’ve had weeks of happiness, despite everything, here with you to think about it. This is my choice, Thomas. Whatever it may bring, whatever it means for my life, it’s decided. I’m yours.”

“Jimmy…” Thomas murmured heavily. “I love you so much. I always have.” At the sight of Jimmy suddenly blinking back tears, Thomas raised himself up on his elbow and quickly added, “Why are you crying?”

“That’s the first time you’ve said it since, well, since before, more than a year ago.” Jimmy’s voice quavered. “After everything I’ve done to you, all the ways I’ve hurt you and abandoned you, sometimes I was afraid --”

“Oh my darling!” Thomas crushed his lips to Jimmy’s, silencing him. Jimmy immediately responded, pulling Thomas down so his body enveloped him. The urgency of their kiss soon sunk into slow, deep sensuality. As they broke apart panting, they held tight to each other, foreheads touching, eyes closed and lips mere inches apart.

“Settled?” Jimmy whispered.

Thomas nodded minutely. “Settled.”

 


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature rating earned in this chapter.

**October 1924.**

In the three months of Jimmy’s hospital orderly training program, he and Thomas had been barely able to see each other. After constant togetherness during Thomas’ illness, the abrupt change had been difficult for them both. Jimmy’s schedule in York had been vigorous and his rare free hours had not often overlapped with Thomas’ time off. Usually they’d only been able to spend a few hours together when Thomas came up to York. Jimmy did manage to get to Downton once for an afternoon and evening with Thomas, then slept on the night train before returning to the teaching hospital early the next morning.

In consequence Jimmy had unexpectedly developed a new talent: correspondence. He marveled at the amount of paper he blew through writing almost nightly to Thomas. He couldn’t control the flood of thoughts and ideas that streamed out of the tip of his pen. He told Thomas every detail about his training, his triumphs and struggles, his excitement and trepidation. But it wasn’t all rosy and he showed no restraint. The hours were long and physically demanding, even compared to those of a footman. The academic coursework was equally taxing. But perhaps most meaningfully, he hadn’t anticipated the emotional demands of the work. He was shocked at the degree of suffering to which he now bore witness and he struggled to learn to cope with it. It unearthed buried emotions about the losses of his parents and his subsequent solitary existence. His schedule left him little time to process it, so it all ended up on the page. Thomas realized Jimmy’s early dismissive comments about being “all on me ownsome,” his habitual lady-hopping, his professed goal of “a fun life” might actually have been symptoms of his deep and unprocessed grief. Now it was all being forced to the surface in a way Jimmy couldn’t avoid.  Thomas soon learned to gauge how well Jimmy was coping based on the steadiness of his handwriting.

Thomas, who had always been a good correspondent, lived for the post. He kept Jimmy’s letters tied with a piece of twine in the top drawer of his dressing table next to his mother’s picture. Almost every night, he took them out, paged through them all and then poured his heart out onto paper in return. Jimmy was the key that unlocked the wounded parts of him that he had never shared with anyone. As if his soul was making up for years of isolation, Thomas began to trust Jimmy with his darkest secrets and most humiliating memories. He wrote of the Duke of Crowborough’s cruel betrayal and of Edward Courtenay’s tragic death, of Kemal Pamuk’s manipulation and blackmail, of his mother’s early death and his father’s later rejection of him. He even ashamedly wrote about how he had essentially self-inflicted his hand wound in order to escape the front. Jimmy accepted it all with compassion and without judgment. Indeed he felt each letter was a gift from the mysteriously private man who was so trusting of him but so guarded with everyone else. He was moved indescribably by this window into a life that had been far more difficult and heartbreaking than he had realized. His own early mistreatment of Thomas still bruised his memory. He vowed to himself that hereafter he would always treat Thomas with kindness, even though the man’s natural moodiness, a condition Jimmy ruefully recognized had not been cured alongside his infection, at times made it exceedingly difficult. But he loved him, all of him. Throughout his long work days, Jimmy always kept Thomas’ latest letter tucked into the breast pocket of his shirt.

Interestingly, Jimmy had revealed a jealous streak when Thomas wrote about Andy, the temporary footman hired to assist during Lady Rose’s wedding week. In response to Jimmy’s pointed questions, Thomas felt an unfamiliar combination of flattery and indignation. They discussed it over several letters. 

 

_“What charming nonsense, Jimmy. The only one with eyes for Andy is Daisy.”_

__

_“But going to the club to win back his money sounds like something you would have done for me. Why did you do it?”_

__

_“Because it was a way to get one up on that crotchety old Denker. Trust me, dearest. The only footman who has swept me off my feet is you. I am, and will remain, yours.”_

__

_“I’m sorry Thomas. Forgive me? But please try not to be too charming until I can get back and fight for you. And if that bloody Andy tries anything he’ll feel my fist.”_

Now, they were finally together again. Jimmy had returned earlier that afternoon and Thomas, who had managed to get time off, had met him at the train. Jimmy was overjoyed to see Thomas’ limp was almost gone and he was no longer using the cane. “I was tired of looking like bloody Bates.” Thomas quipped by way of explanation.

They’d had an early dinner at the Grantham Arms then spent the rest of the evening getting Jimmy settled into his new dwellings in the hospital staff quarters. Overflowing during war time, by contrast the staff wing was now nearly vacant. A modest bedroom and sitting room that had previously housed four was entirely his own, and the bathroom down the hall was shared with no one. His closest neighbor was one hallway over.

With everything done, they sat before the fire sipping small glasses of the port that Thomas had bought for the occasion.

“I can’t believe this is really happening.” Jimmy said. “I’m an hospital orderly.”

“You’ll be fantastic. I can attest to that.”

“One of the instructors in York asked me if I was interested in full nurse’s training, not just this auxiliary stuff.” Jimmy shared excitedly.

“Really? Don’t you have to have some college or something?” Thomas asked with interest.

“Apparently they will accept five years’ work experience as a substitute. And some hospitals will pay on fellowship, just like Downton Hospital has done for my orderly training.”

“Well, you have a three year commitment to Downton, then it’s only two more to go.” Thomas said brightly.

“Do you really think I could do it?”

“Of course! You’re on your way.”

“It’s a two year training program, though….” Jimmy looked worriedly at Thomas.

“Well, we have five years to find a butler’s position for me in York, then.” Thomas reassured him.

“You would leave Downton for me?”

“I would leave Rudolph Valentino for you.”

Jimmy laughed, exclaiming warmly, “Thank you, Thomas. Thank you so much.”

“I’m proud of you, Jimmy. There are good things ahead of us.” Thomas reached over and hooked his fingers through Jimmy’s. “Is orientation still set to begin tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, those were Dr. Clarkson’s instructions. I’m to report to the matron at one in the afternoon.”

“Well in that case I have a surprise for you. I don’t have to be back at The Abbey until noon tomorrow. So…” he lightly stroked Jimmy’s fingers, which rested in his. “...I can stay the night.” Seeing Jimmy’s smile fade slightly, Thomas quickly added, “-- if you like.”

“Oh no, Thomas. Of course I want you to stay. It’s just…” he broke off nervously and looked at the floor.

Thomas put down his glass of port. Not releasing Jimmy’s hand, he rose from his chair and pulled Jimmy to standing. Thomas faced Jimmy and linked their hands. Jimmy was powerfully reminded of an earlier time, when they had stood together hand in hand just before their first intimacy. The intense memory inflamed his desire and his body swelled with arousal.

Thomas too was reminded of that moment. As before, Jimmy’s vulnerability fueled his passion and he longed to devour him. But Jimmy’s trust empowered him with self-control and he managed to maintain his composure. Thomas would do anything for the man he loved, and that included waiting. He knew he possessed Jimmy's heart, which meant he also possessed all the patience in the world. If Jimmy needed time, then that was precisely what Thomas would give him. When they finally came together, he wanted it to be perfect.

“A lot has changed, Jimmy.” Thomas said gently. “But some things haven’t. There’s no hurry. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ever. I love you and you are safe with me.”

“That’s not it, well… not entirely.” Suddenly warm, Jimmy’s skin flushed and his breathing became shallow. “I yearn for you, Thomas, I crave you body and soul, and I want to give you all the pleasure that you’ve given me… it’s just…” his voice trailed off, choked on the fluttering of his heart. Jimmy felt he had never been so scared, and never been so close to getting everything he wanted.

“Nervous?” Thomas murmured.

Jimmy nodded silently, eyes downcast.

A slight furrow marred Thomas’ otherwise pristine brow.

‘‘Why?”

Jimmy’s heart rose into his throat in response to the love in Thomas’ voice. Nevertheless, it wasn’t in his nature to be so emotional. He chewed on his lip, trying to manage his embarrassment.

Thomas placed his hand under Jimmy’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes. “Tell me.”  

“I’ve had sex so many times before…” Jimmy finally confessed, his voice low and raw. “But I’ve never… I’ve never made love.”

Thomas gently held Jimmy’s face in his hands. “Yes, you have.” he whispered, then kissed him tenderly. Jimmy’s arms wound tightly around Thomas’ waist as he returned the kiss.

“Every time I shared my body and my bed, every time you moaned under my touch, every time I held you in my arms, I was making love to you.” Thomas murmured against Jimmy’s lips as desire raged through them both.

“I love you, Thomas.” Jimmy whispered, shaking like a spring leaf.  

“I love you, Jimmy.” Thomas ran his hands down Jimmy’s back and Jimmy shuddered. Thomas looked to his lover for permission. Understanding, Jimmy nodded yes. Slowly, Thomas unbuttoned Jimmy’s shirt, his lips and tongue moving across Jimmy’s exposed neck. Jimmy tipped his head back, eyes closed as he ran his hands encouragingly through Thomas’ hair.

As Thomas slowly moved his lips across Jimmy’s neck, he pulled Jimmy’s shirt tails up. Sliding his hands underneath, he caressed Jimmy’s muscled back. Jimmy sighed, moving his face against Thomas’ hair and breathing in the scent he had long found so alluring. Longing to feel Thomas’ skin on his in a way he never had before, Jimmy fumbled with Thomas’ shirt, bringing a small smile to Thomas’ face. “Not all of us were valets, Thomas.” Jimmy chuckled. Thomas helped him by unbuttoning the cuffs at his wrists and allowed Jimmy to slide off his shirt. Then they helped each other out of their undershirts. They stood for a moment before each other, bare-chested. As Jimmy’s eyes drifted over Thomas’ skin, Thomas felt a moment’s uncertainty that Jimmy might change his mind. However, Jimmy reached out and lightly ran his hands across Thomas’ chest, up over his shoulders and down his arms, making Thomas’ eyes flutter and his breath become ragged. Jimmy then wrapped his arms tightly around Thomas’ back and languidly kissed his way across Thomas’ chest. Thomas’ arms tensed with pleasure, causing him to cling tightly as Jimmy softly lapped his tongue over Thomas’ nipples. Thomas’ skin hummed at the touch and his groin burned. He slid his hands down to Jimmy’s waist, then to the firmness below. In response, Jimmy purred into Thomas’ chest, then reached down to Thomas’ belt. Thomas did the same, and within moments, they stood naked before the fire, melting together in a passionate embrace. For the first time, they were completely touching, lips to lips, chest to chest, legs between legs, sex against sex. As they desperately kissed, their hips rocked together, moving as one in a slow, sensuous dance.

Thomas broke away first and peered searchingly into Jimmy’s eyes. His gaze was met by raw desire mirroring his own. Taking his hand, Thomas led Jimmy into the bedroom, then turned to look back at him one more time. The question lay wordless in Thomas’ eyes.

In response, Jimmy lay down on the bed and gently pulled Thomas over him. They settled breathless into each others’ arms, legs entwined, skin on skin, bodies fitting perfectly together.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jimmy ran his fingers across Thomas’ cheek, his heart flailing desperately in his chest. He locked his blue eyes imploringly on Thomas’ gray ones. “I want you, Thomas. I want you so much.”

Thomas smiled tenderly and murmured against his lips. “Let me show you what love is.”

In answer, Jimmy drew Thomas down into a deep kiss and their smoldering heat to burst into all-consuming flame. As Thomas poured all of his passion over Jimmy’s body, Jimmy’s surrender was complete. Jimmy responded with complete openness and trust, accepting his lover unreservedly. With touch and taste, Thomas transported Jimmy to a new world of intense pleasures beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of. In return Jimmy gave Thomas everything he asked for and more, with a tenderness that neither of them had ever experienced before. The fullness of Jimmy’s love perfused all the empty, wounded places in Thomas' soul. Jimmy lavished himself on the man he loved with untempered generosity, inspiring Thomas to sensuous abandon. They drowned themselves in each other. When their bodies finally joined, their moans of ecstasy and tears of joy mingled seamlessly together. As one being, they found bliss.

~

The fire in the sitting room did not outlast their own. It had long since burned out before Jimmy succumbed to sleep in Thomas’ arms. His fears and his lover’s pain were soothed into silence in the wake of their passion. All that remained was love. Thomas luxuriated in the sensations around him; Jimmy’s warmth, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the flicker of his cigarette and the smoky sensuality of the air that embraced them. With a small smile, he exhaled and stubbed out the cigarette. Jimmy softly stirred against him and Thomas possessively pulled him closer. As they lay united in perfect harmony of body and spirit, Thomas understood that everything was different now. Sighing with sweet exhaustion, he closed his eyes, his mind empty and his heart full.

 

**THE END.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction, and it began as the tale I thought series five was going to tell but did not. The motivational link to Jimmy’s abrupt departure was also fertile ground but it was never developed. I was haunted by the story that hadn’t been told, and so the story instead found it’s way out of me.
> 
> In the age before antibiotics, infection was a serious threat to life. I carefully researched period health care to keep it accurate - right down to the existence of the Mayo stand. I similarly reviewed DA episodes in detail. I tried to remain true to the dialogue and performances but when able I inserted subtext or alternate meanings for lines and situations. I wanted it to be plausible that Thomas and Jimmy’s private story continued underneath the visible plot lines on the screen, as a metaphor for how nontraditional couples are often forced to live below the surface of society.
> 
> My treatment of Thomas was inspired by his five-series history, but more meaningfully by the sensitive and complex performance of the actor, Rob James-Collier. It is largely to his credit that a two-dimensional villain who just happens to be gay has instead come to life as a conflicted, sympathetic and deeply flawed man. To remain true to James-Collier’s vision I studied many interviews and even borrowed several of his turns of phrase, nestling them into Thomas’ thoughts and speech courtesy of the man who must know him best. Jimmy’s development was much more of a work of fiction, although I agree with the assertion by the actor that played him, Ed Speleers, that Jimmy was a rather mysterious figure who could have turned to dark or light. Fellowes did not explore this so I did, and Jimmy alternately dwells in both realms, as everyone ultimately does. 
> 
> Many period works that feature homosexual relationships address the burden of rejection by society and religion, complicated by class. Thomas and Jimmy certainly faced those obstacles. In the 100 years since their time, LGBT sexuality has become more accepted in the abstract but frank explorations of physical acts of love are frequently considered too provocative for the mainstream. Expressions unique to LGBT sex tend to remain either casually derogatory or marginalized for their sensationalism. The default is heterosexuality, anything otherwise requires a qualifier. Today the social landscape is more abstractly permissive but that makes current obstacles less easily identifiable and therefore more difficult to navigate. The depiction of physical love is one of those obstacles.
> 
> This gives Thomas and Jimmy’s story contemporary relevance, so I considered carefully how to address the physical nature of their relationship. Jimmy’s development reflects the heteronormative question of “how gay is too gay” and what exactly constitutes sex. I felt that to deny exploring those specific questions was to deny one of the most important barriers Jimmy faced in coming to terms with his sexuality. He was not meant to imply that all homophobic men are latently gay (or as in Jimmy’s case bisexual). His self-delusion was more universal; he avoided thinking about his parents, his solitary life, the restrictions of his class, his limited choices and the consequences of his own behavior. His friendship with Thomas sets the stage for his emotional awakening, but it was really the power of their sexual relationship that catalyzed the development of true insight. Jimmy and Thomas use sex in different ways, Thomas as a means of experiencing companionship and expressing his love in a way that Jimmy will accept, Jimmy as a way of fulfilling his emotional needs without actually acknowledging them. The scene in the boot room was about domination, both of one’s partner and one’s fears. Jimmy tries to control Thomas -- and his own rising terror -- but fails because, unlike Thomas, he is unable to accept his true sexual identity. In this setting, the details of who does what to whom were vitally important to the story. In the final scene where they come together openly as lovers, the details were less important, because they had succeeded in becoming equals who accepted each other and themselves. 
> 
> And finally, I wanted to give Thomas a happy ending. He’s still a battered bird, but like E.M. Forster’s Maurice, I wanted him to have “a friend, someone to last your whole life and you his.” Jimmy is the ideal candidate. They have fantastic chemistry fueled by mutual affection, compatibility, intellect and irreverence. Jimmy has the fortitude to manage Thomas’ difficult and dysthymic character, Thomas can save Jimmy from delusion and stagnation. They balance each other in a way that prevents either from succumbing to self-destruction. As Thomas said, they are quite a pair. Like Maurice and his Alec, the story ends when they accept each other and thereby themselves. The path they have chosen is difficult, but Thomas and Jimmy will face that path together.


End file.
